


Being Human

by stardust009



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Friendship to Lovers, Humour, Hurt, M/M, Modern AU, Plot Twists, Romance, Suicide, Supernatural Elements, Violence, kink meme fill, more relationships will be added as they are revealed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 170,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust009/pseuds/stardust009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A werewolf!Porthos, a vampire!Aramis and a ghost!Athos share a house and try to live a normal life. </p><p>Even with the empty pizza boxes, beer, dirty socks, vampire porn and their friend Constance constantly interfering, the supernatural inseparables manage to live a relatively normal existence and blend in with the ordinary humans around them until they meet d’Artagnan, a human boy who can see ghosts......</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The interview

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Made by Isalen
> 
> [Prompt fill - http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/1213.html?thread=2105789#cmt2105789
> 
> I’m going with most of the supernatural ‘rules’ from the BBC Being Human series. So, for example, vampires have an immense thirst for blood but can consume other forms of substance like pizza. I may have to tweak some things to fit the story. I’ll try to explain the rules within the story where-ever possible.
> 
> More characters will be added as I go along.]

Athos stared down at the red-checked table-cloth for such a long time that Constance was pretty certain that she was boring him. Then again she had made the mistake of inviting a man that couldn’t drink coffee to a coffee shop for his interview. She felt bad each time she raised the mug to her own lips and had a sip but she needed the caffeine to keep her going. Whilst she had struggled getting the other two to stop talking, she was having the opposite problem with Athos. She watched as he reached out and scratched a black mark off table-cloth.

“So, you can’t eat or drink?”

“Why would I need to?” Athos asked, still not looking up from the table. “I don’t need the energy. My body can’t process food.”

Constance nodded and silently cursed the other two for not warning her about that fact. She would have picked somewhere more suitable had she known, like a park or somewhere peaceful where Athos wouldn’t have been quite so uncomfortable. The man was clearly not a fan of the hustle and bustle of a busy café.

“Do you miss eating?”

Finally Athos looked up at her again. His blue eyes half-covered by the wave of his fringe but she suspected that he liked having his hair in that way. It made him look more mysterious after all. It was a good thing too considering he couldn’t do much about it.

“Are these really the questions that you want to ask me?” Athos swiftly said, sounding quite challenging in his manner. He continued to look at Constance who started tapping her notepad with her pen.

“No,” she admitted. It made Athos smirk as if he was pleased about the fact she was finally being honest. Constance had never seen him smile before. There was something quite unnerving about it and, yet, it was lovely at the same time. Constance leaned forward a little, slightly afraid that someone would overhear their strange conversation. No, wait, no-one else could see him. They’d all think she was talking to herself and get her sectioned.

“When did you die?” she asked quietly, her face full of interest now that she had permission to ask all of the questions which she had been dying to know ever since the other two had introduced their new housemate to her.

“Two years ago,” he responded, as if it was nothing unusual.

“How did you die?”

The question made Athos raise an eyebrow and he didn’t respond straight away. Constance was worried that she had hit a nerve and, perhaps she had, because his response was, “Sometimes people need their secrets.”

 “Fine,” Constance said, although it wasn’t. How was she going to write her book if he was keeping important facts from her? She scribbled down some thoughts on her notepad before looking back at Athos.

“What’s the worst thing about being a ghost?”

Athos glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, as if he was properly thinking about the answer to her question. Eventually he turned back to her.

“People can’t see me so I’m mostly ignored.”

Constance wrote that down.

“What’s the best thing about being a ghost?”

“People can’t see me so I’m mostly ignored,” Athos repeated again. Constance paused and stared at him trying to figure out if he was being serious. Despite the way the side of his lip curled up into another half-smile, she could tell that he meant every word.

“So only supernatural creatures can see you?” she asked, to clarify.

Athos nodded.

“And me?”

Athos nodded again although he looked very thoughtful about it as he poked at a fork, making it swing up and down, almost like the fork fascinated him just as much as the conversation.

“Yes, it seems so. Although I haven’t figured out how yet.”

“Aramis reckons it’s because we both love him so that connects us.”

Athos rolled his eyes, “Aramis would think that.”

“So you do you love him?” Constance asked and tried desperately not to smile. However, when Athos looked at her through that fringe, he gave her a glare. She assumed that was a no although it might have been another no comment. Constance wouldn’t have minded if Athos did have feelings for Aramis, in fact she wouldn’t have blamed Athos at all. Constance herself had once dated Aramis although, as they both adamantly pointed out on many occasions, their relationship had only lasted a couple of weeks. Aramis wasn’t good with relationships for reasons that had become very obvious to Constance once she found out the truth about him. Although she rather preferred not to think about those reasons at all if she could help it. Yet they had remained firm friends and she was the only human that both Aramis and Porthos allowed into their house.

“Constance, what are the purpose of these questions?”

“Didn’t the boys tell you? I’m writing a book.”

“Aramis mentioned something about you wanting to be the next Stephenie Meyer although I have no-idea who that is.”

“The Twilight books?”

Athos looked confused and gave a little shrug. Constance shook her head because it didn’t really matter.

“Never mind. Once I found out that Aramis doesn’t sparkle in the sunlight I threw away my copies anyway. That’s why I want to know the real facts.”

She could tell that she was just confusing Athos even more so she decided to get back to the interview.

“Do we all become ghosts when we die? How does it work?”

“I’m unsure myself. Aramis knows more about it than I do. He says that most people pass into the next life but a few remain behind. Those with unfinished business.”

Constance wanted to ask what his unfinished business was but she strongly suspected that he wasn’t very likely to tell her. She leaned back in her seat and noticed something over Athos’ shoulder. There was a young man sitting at a table behind them, staring at Athos like he had seen…..a ghost.

“How do you know when someone has supernatural powers?” she suddenly asked, staring at the handsome stranger with the tanned skin and brown eyes until he noticed that he had been spotted and quickly looked back down at his Starbucks hot chocolate. Athos, oblivious to it all, shook his head.

“It’s not easy to tell. Aramis says he can sense them, Porthos says they smell different. I only know because they can see me. Although you can see me so….…I don’t know what the rules are any more.”

“I think he can see you,” Constance pointed out, nodding over to where the young guy was still trying to make it look like he was staring at his drink even though he kept on glancing up. Athos turned to look over his shoulder and his eyes went wide open when he saw him. The lad himself suddenly sat up straight and stared right back.

“We have to go,” Athos immediately said and stood up from his chair. He started walking around the tables and out of the cafe before Constance even had the chance to engage her brain about what was happening. She watched Athos go and then looked back over at the stranger. They knew each other, how interesting.

“Athos, wait!” she called and then cursed herself silently for shouting his name out loud. She grabbed her bag and notepad and raced off after him. By the time she found him he was always half-way down the street, marching so fast that she had to almost run to keep up with him.

“Who is he?”

“I can’t remember his name,” Athos mumbled. “I knew his father. I never should have come outside.” Athos frowned, clearly angry at himself for breaking his own rules. Constance felt bad. She was the one who had talked Athos into this stupid interview in the stupid café. She knew that Athos barely left the house but that was why she wanted to get him outside for a change. She was trying to help only it had gone horribly wrong and Athos was walking so fast that she was almost falling over her own feet trying to stay with him.

By the time they reached the house he shared with the other two he didn’t even wait for Constance. He suddenly walked right through the front door. Constance gasped as she watched him disappear into the solid wood, unable to follow him. So she hammered on the door instead and didn’t stop hitting the door until it swung open and Porthos, who was wearing nothing apart from a pair of jeans, was standing there. It wasn’t an uncommon sight. Porthos was always hot and Aramis was always cold. It led to constant fights over the central heating.

“Hi, Constance,” he said with a cheerful tone to his voice at seeing her. That was until he looked behind her and noticed that no-one else was there. “Did you lose Athos?”

“He’s inside already,” She pointed out. “Let me in.”

She almost pushed past Porthos, who had the foresight to jump out of the way, and went into the house. In all honestly she hated the house. It was such a bachelor pad full of beer bottles, empty pizza boxes, dirty clothes and vampire porn. Yet her friends were in the house so she seemed to always find herself spending time there.

“What happened?” Porthos asked after her as she continued her journey through the hallway and towards the stairs.

“He saw someone or rather someone saw him. He’s distressed. We need to go and talk to him.”

“Someone saw him?” Porthos asked because that seemed like the most important part.

“Yes,” Constance felt impatient. She didn’t have time to explain. In a second Athos would lock himself into his bedroom and not let any of them in like he so often did. Whilst the boys seemed to respect his privacy and leave him to it, Constance couldn’t stand letting someone so sad continue to hide themselves away. She wouldn’t let him run away from everything any more, she couldn’t let him. He was her friend now too. She knew that she cared about them all more than she should but they were all so broken and she was a sucker for injured animals. She was half-way up the stairs when there was a bang at the door. Porthos looked at her before moving to open it. She gasped and was just about to tell him to stop but it was too late and Porthos opened the door once again. The young man from the café was standing there and now it wasn’t shock on his young features, it was anger.

“My name is d'Artagnan and I demand to see Athos. I demand to see the man who killed my father.”

They both looked at him for a while, not knowing how to react to such a dramatic statement.

“Well this is interesting,” came another voice suddenly added to the mix. Right behind d'Artagnan, standing out on the pavement, Aramis appeared. How does he do that? Constance wondered before realising that there were many things Aramis could do which still shocked her. D’Artagnan was startled and twisted his head to look at Aramis. Aramis had his sunglasses covering his eyes and was wearing a black shirt, black jeans, black boots and fingerless-gloves. He had once told Constance that, if he was going to be a vampire, he might as well dress like one. She never quite understood why he felt that way but she also knew well enough than not to question the man’s dress sense because he was rather sensitive about it.

Before the lad from the cafe could do or say much else, Aramis had a firm grip of his shoulder and he was pushing d'Artagnan into the house with the strength and speed that only a vampire could manage. Once they were both inside the door slammed shut, seemingly without Aramis even touching it. Constance, who was still half-way up the stairs, suddenly forgot all about Athos and had a sudden urge to defend the boy when she saw Aramis remove his sunglasses and spotted the darkness already seeping into Aramis’ eyes as the vampire stayed behind d'Artagnan and licked his lips. That was why they didn’t usually let humans into the house. Porthos saw it too and stepped forward towards his friend.

“Aramis, let the lad speak. He seems to know Athos.”

“Athos?” Aramis looked confused for a moment, his eyes returned to their usual shade of brown but he was still staring at the pumping vein on d'Artagnan's neck. “But you’re……human.”

D’Artagnan didn’t seem to know what to do or where to look. His head was shooting between Porthos and Aramis. He was clearly still angry but he also seemed afraid as to what he had walked into.

“What else would I be?” he asked, almost in a squeak but then seemed to suddenly remember why he was there and a determined expression came across his face once more. “I want to see Athos.”

Curiosity was getting the better of Constance because she found herself desperately wanting to know how d'Artagnan knew Athos and why the young man thought that someone as introverted as their resident ghost had it in him to kill anyone.

“It’s fine,” came a voice from up the stairs. It made Constance jump. Damn vampires and damn ghosts. They could always sneak up behind her. “If you wish to see me then I am here.”

D’Artagnan stepped forward away from Aramis and past Porthos, they both let him go, they were looking up at Athos. Constance had noticed that, despite the short time they had all lived together and despite the fact Athos seemed so lost and lonely to her, the other two looked up to him and respected him almost as a leader. Constance moved against the wall, suddenly feeling in the way as d'Artagnan stared up at Athos and Athos looked down at the younger man at the bottom of the stairs.

“I was told that you were dead,” d'Artagnan explained. “That’s why I stopped looking but then there you were, sitting in a café.” Athos said nothing which seemed to spur d'Artagnan to continue. His eyes were starting to fill with tears. “You killed my father. It was your fault. If was YOUR….FAULT!”

The shouting made Constance jump but the other two weren’t reacting. Constance could only assume that they were waiting for Athos to tell them to do something.

“Yes,” Athos spoke softly when he eventually responded. “Yes it was my fault.”

D’Artagnan suddenly ran up the stairs. He flew past Constance and went for Athos. Constance could see the other two move to defend Athos until they paused and stopped. Constance looked up and saw that Athos was holding out a hand at them, telling them not to do anything. D’Artagnan started pounding his fists against Athos’ chest, furious and angry.

“It was your fault!” he screamed over and over. Athos stood there, his body rocking with the assault, flinching each time a fist hit his chest but he did nothing to stop it. Constance gasped and tears starting forming in her own eyes watching the distress of the young man who had lost his father. That was until an exhausted d'Artagnan seemed to give in to the sobbing. He reached out and gripped onto Athos’ shirt and his legs gave way. Athos grabbed him and held him tightly as they both sank down onto their knees on the staircase landing.

“See, I told you it would be more exciting if we let him live with us,” she heard Aramis say from down below.


	2. Pre-moon tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I will explain how Aramis became a vampire and Porthos became a werewolf later in the story. I will also introduce more characters as I go along.....Gallagher the werewolf hunter anyone?]

Aramis was playing the drums with two breadsticks on the dining-room table which was driving Athos mad especially when they kept on breaking and Aramis was leaving breadcrumbs all over the table, but Athos didn’t feel like it was the right moment to tell him off. Porthos was pacing up and down the kitchen like a caged animal. Athos sat watching them both, waiting for the barrage of questions. Constance was upstairs delivering a cup of tea to the emotionally exhausted man that had turned up at their door earlier and accused Athos of murder. Constance thought that everything could be solved with tea.

“So you killed someone?” Porthos asked, breaking the silence which had been hanging over them all for the past few minutes. “You failed to mention that on the housemate application.”

“You never asked,” Athos pointed out although quickly regretted it. This wasn’t the time to be snarky. He did decide, however, that the conversation might work better if Porthos put some more clothes on. The man walking up and down in nothing but a pair of jeans was distracting.

“Why does it matter?” Aramis said, looking up at his old friend. “It’s not like you and I have the right to judge.”

“I’m not judging,” Porthos pointed out with a firm glare shot in the direction of the vampire. “This is just a shock, that’s all. I’m sad that Athos thinks he can’t tell us this stuff.”

Athos knew that he was right. He had purposely kept so many things from the two of them but that was partly why he felt so comfortable in their friendship, because they had never questioned him about his past before.

“You’re just agitated because it’s a full-moon tonight,” Aramis said, still looking over his shoulder up at Porthos who was now standing somewhere behind him. “Why don’t you head out? We can talk about this when you get back.”

Porthos looked at Aramis and then at Athos and then continued pacing. Indeed it was true that Porthos was always far more agitated and tense just before his change. Now really wasn’t a good time to be having a serious conversation. Pre-moon tension, Aramis called it.

“I can’t, can I?” Porthos eventually said. “I can’t leave you all in the house together like this.”

Aramis rolled his eyes and looked back down at his breadsticks. “No, you’re right. Having a rampaging angry werewolf smashing up the house will really help the situation.”

Athos heard a growl and suddenly Porthos was behind Aramis, lifting him up out of his chair by back of his black shirt. Aramis was hurled to his feet and he twisted around until he was angrily facing Porthos but it was his friend who spoke first.

“Having a blood-thirsty vampire in the house with a human isn’t ideal either!”

“I’m not going to kill the boy. Why do you always assume that I would? You know I’ve not hurt anyone for three years ever since YOU made me go to rehab!” Aramis sneered and, not for the first time since he had moved in, Athos had to intervene.

“Gentlemen,” he said calmly, peering at them both. Their snarling stopped as they turned to look at him, although Porthos was still holding onto the shirt. Athos studied them both. Whilst the very nature of who they both were, vampire and werewolf, meant that they should really be mortal enemies, Aramis and Porthos seemed to spend their lives fighting those instincts and, as a result, their determination to be friends only brought them closer together. Athos had never seen a bond and a love between two men as strong as it was between his two housemates. However, there were still moments when they did try to kill each other and Athos often had to be an emotional fire-extinguisher.

“I am responsible for the death of d'Artagnan's father,” he explained. He realised that there was no-way he could sort this out without telling them part of his story. “I didn’t kill him directly but, nevertheless, he is dead because of me.”

Fingers on Aramis’ shirt let go and Aramis fell from his tip-toes onto his feet with a disappointed look on his face.

“So you’re not a ruthless cold-blooded hit-man?”

Athos shook his head. He almost felt bad disappointing Aramis. Porthos, however, looked relieved and then confused as if he was unsure about his emotions on the matter.

“What happened?” Porthos asked, moving away from Aramis and taking his chair, sitting down to face Athos. Aramis huffed but then pulled out another chair and sat next to Porthos.

“You can tell us. We’re your friends,” Porthos said sounding as kind in his words as in his eyes.

Yes you are, Athos thought, and I still have no-idea how that happened. He sighed, scanning them both before deciding that if he wasn’t going to trust those two then he wouldn’t be-able to trust anyone. He was surprised to find that, once he started to talk, it all came out.

“My ex-wife killed him. I had the chance to stop her and I messed it up. She then went on to kill d'Artagnan's father as well as others in the village where we lived. It was my fault because I should have prevented it.”

He could actually see both of their jaws dropping.

“Your ex went around killing people?” Porthos asked.

“You were married?” Aramis asked.

Athos wasn’t sure which to answer first so he just nodded as that seemed to cover both answers. Aramis sat back in his chair and suddenly had a strange look about him. Please don’t ask, Athos thought frantically, please don’t make this even more complicated. Porthos just looked sad for Athos, folding his muscular arms over his chest he spoke with concern.

“That’s truly horrible. I wish you had told us. Did she…..I mean…..you’re dead so I’m just assuming…..”

“No,” Athos shook his head quickly. “She didn’t kill me.”

Porthos nodded and then remained quiet. They both seemed to understand that Athos had shared a lot and perhaps that was enough for now. In fact Porthos slowly rose out of his chair.

“I want to know more but I really need to get to the woods.”

Aramis was still staring at Athos like he was deep in thought but he soon brought himself out of the moment and looked up at his friend.

“Do you want a lift? I could get the bike?”

Porthos shook his head. “No thanks it’s fine. I’ll take the car.”

Athos watched Porthos leave the kitchen and disappear into the living-room. He felt for the man because he knew how much Porthos hated the full-moon. The pain of the change as well as the worry of not being in control were two things which Porthos found difficult to deal with. Athos had once offered to go with him. Not even a werewolf could hurt a ghost after all and at least then he wouldn’t have to be alone during the change. Yet Porthos had shaken his head and told Athos to stay and watch Aramis. Which meant look after Aramis, however much Porthos might insist that it meant stop Aramis from killing anyone. So Athos once again didn’t offer and just sat there as Porthos eventually re-appeared wearing clothes.

“Please behave yourself,” Porthos said to Aramis. The vampire got up off his seat and immediately wrapped his arms around his friend for an embrace.

“Always,” Aramis muttered against the broad shoulder.

“Liar,” Porthos mumbled back and let the hug linger for as long as he could. Eventually he let go and shot a quick smile at Athos.

“We’ll talk more when I get back, okay? We’re both here for you.”

Athos nodded and watched as Porthos left. Aramis turned to look at Athos.

“Pizza?” he suddenly frowned. “Oh, darn it, you can’t eat. I’ll go and see if the others want anything.”

Before Athos even knew what was happening Aramis had vanished from the room. It took Athos a couple of seconds to register that fact before he quickly got up and went off after him. He was the reason why the lad was in the house, the least he could do was make sure Aramis didn’t terrorise him. By the time he got up the stairs and to the landing he realised that he needn’t worry, Constance was blocking the bedroom door.

“What do you mean he’s asleep?” Aramis was asking, looking utterly bemused.

“I mean he’s asleep. He looked exhausted so I told him to lie down. He has been sleeping on his cousin’s couch for the last few months, it’s not ideal.”

Aramis stood there staring at Constance for a while as Athos walked up towards them.

“Did you also offer him a pair of Athos’ pyjamas? And mention that he can borrow some of my clean underwear after he uses the shower? Did you tell him that we could cook him breakfast in the morning?”

“No,” Constance said. “Do you think I should?”

“NO!” Aramis shouted.  Constance frowned at him for shouting which made Aramis immediately look guilty. He might be a vampire but Constance could still boss him around.

“Aramis,” Athos stepped forward until they could both see him. “Didn’t you want pizza?”

Athos never understood why pizza seemed to excite Aramis almost as much as blood but it often proved to be a helpful distraction and it wasn’t long before pizza was ordered and the three awake members of the house were downstairs in the living-room.

Aramis allowed Constance to help him out but he hogged the pizza box. He was sitting on the dark-brown leather couch, the first three buttons of his black shirt undone and his feet up on the coffee table. Athos watched him and wondered how the man could make eating a pepperoni pizza look sexy but somehow he did. Athos couldn’t keep his eyes off him as Aramis bit into the cheese and chewed with small delighted moans. Constance was completely oblivious to it, too busy watching Millionaire Matchmaker, but Athos couldn’t keep his eyes off his housemate. He kept on telling himself that it was some supernatural ability which vampires had to draw victims in and that was why he blushed every-time Aramis smiled at him. That’s why he had to disappear off into his bedroom every time he saw Aramis walking around the house in a fluffy yellow towel. Except Porthos had the same effect on Athos and Porthos wasn’t a vampire at all. Athos was obviously just lonely. He hadn’t been with anyone in years and it wasn’t like he had a vast pool of people to connect with. He was a ghost, most people couldn’t even see him.

He suddenly realised that Aramis had spotted his gaze. Aramis even had the nerve to wink at him before Athos quickly looked away and decided that he could blame it on pizza-envy if he had too.

They all sat and watched trashy TV until late into the evening when a figure appeared in the doorway. D’Artagnan was there looking dishevelled and sheepish.

“Good morning, sleepy beauty,” Aramis said, not even turning to look, his vampire senses had already told him who was there. Athos and Constance did look. Athos felt a wave of nerves hitting him. The last time he had seen the young man awake he was beating him and then collapsed into his arms. He wasn’t quite sure how round two was going to go.

They caught each other’s gaze and stared at each other for a while until d’Artagnan ran his fingers through his hair.

“Can we….talk?”

Athos nodded. He had no issue with talking. He could deal with talking better than fury and tears. Aramis and Constance made no indication that they would move so he ended up suggesting the kitchen and he followed d’Artagnan in there. Whilst d’Artagnan sat at the dining-room table Athos leaned against the kitchen cabinet, not wanting to risk being trapped in case he was attacked again.

“I….I don’t know where to start,” d’Artagnan said, running his hands through his hair again. The habit reminded him of Aramis.

“Take your time,” Athos responded. The boy’s distress was his entire fault after all, he was willing to be patient.

“I looked for you both. I tried everything to find you after my father died. Then I was told that you were dead but I wouldn’t even believe it until I saw your obituary in the newspaper. Even then I went to your funeral, just to make sure.”

“And how was the funeral?” Athos asked.

D’Artagnan paused for a moment before responding with, “Quiet.”

Athos wasn’t sure if he should be upset by the description. Then again, who did he expect to turn up to his funeral? D’Artagnan broke the sudden silence that had developed.

“Did you fake your death?”

Athos felt shocked at the question but he realised that it was quite logical. He thought before answering. He probably shouldn’t tell the lad the truth but he felt that he deserved to know. What was the worst that would happen anyway? It was Aramis and Porthos who would be in danger if anyone found out what they were. What could anyone do to a ghost?

“No. I did die.”

D’Artagnan was so perplexed that he screwed up his face and didn’t say anything at all. Athos sighed and pulled out a chair, sitting opposite the young man.

“I’m dead, d’Artagnan and I know that must be very confusing for you to understand. I’m a ghost. Usually humans can’t see me but, for some reason, you can see me and touch me. I don’t know why, it shouldn’t be possible.”

D’Artagnan continued to sit there in silence, looking at Athos like he thought the other man was a fruitcake. Athos wasn’t sure how to explain it any clearer.

“You’re a ghost?” he finally said after a couple of very awkward minutes. “Like Casper?”

“Not as friendly as Casper.”

“Oh I don’t know,” came a female voice from the doorway. “You have your moments.” She smiled at the pair of them and came into the kitchen. “He’s telling the truth, d’Artagnan. Just go outside with him for a while and you’ll realise that no-one else can see him. Just us.”

D’Artagnan looked from Constance to Athos, back to Constance and then at Athos again.

“This is bonkers,” he mumbled. “And I’ve still got so many questions. I came here so angry and now I’m just confused. Nothing makes sense.”

Athos sighed, he understood why it was all a bit much for the young man. “Whatever you want to know, whatever you need to know, just ask and I will answer.”

All of a sudden the front door slammed shut which made d’Artagnan jump. Constance gasped as Athos frowned.

“We were meant to be watching him,” Constance said to Athos.

Athos responded with a shrug, “Well….we can’t lock him up every time he isn’t working. He has to take some responsibility for his own life.”

This time Constance frowned and Athos knew why. Aramis might have been the oldest out of all of them by a few decades but his mind had stayed at the level of maturity it was on the day he had been recruited which meant that, unfortunately, responsibility never seemed to factor very much in his way of thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Next chapter.......whilst the werewolf is away the vampire will play]


	3. Blood-addicted

There was music, sweat and veins pumping all over the place. Aramis was in heaven. Or at least the closet to heaven he’d ever get, although he’d had a few conversations with God trying to negotiate that one. He smiled and pulled off his sunglasses as he walked into the club. It was dark enough, he didn’t need to look like a complete weirdo. The place was packed with people grinding and dancing with each other, laughing with their friends and buying drinks from the bar. If Aramis looked like a normal person then he probably would have gone unnoticed and blended in with the crowd, but Aramis didn’t look like a normal person. He looked like Aramis and his dark hair only magnified his pale vampire skin which made him stand out even more. Sometimes he even wore eye-liner which really seemed to make the women go weak at the knees but his sneaky escape from his babysitters hadn’t left him a lot of time to put on any make-up.

He walked over to the bar, surveying the clientele as he went. Looking out for someone who might interest him. He wasn’t hunting for blood but he wanted to have some fun. He pushed his way through the crowd and got to the front of the bar before ordering himself a black Russian. Turning around as he raised his drink to his lips not completely oblivious to the looks he was getting. Mostly from women and a couple of boyfriends wondering what their girlfriends were looking at. However he ignored most of the stares because he was scanning the room. It didn’t take him long to spot someone on the dance-floor. The young lady had a short brown pixie-cut and cute little ears. Big brown eyes, dark lipstick and a piercing through her bottom lip. She looked like fun and the way she danced about Aramis could tell she wasn’t shy. She was also showing off most of her body in a short black leather skirt and tight white t-shirt. He liked what he saw.

“Perfect,” he muttered to himself and downed the rest of his drink pretty quickly. Leaving his empty glass somewhere he went over to the dance-floor and made sure that it wasn’t long until he was dancing close to the cute one. It also wasn’t long before she noticed him. She gave him a smile and her friend whispered something into her ear. Whilst Aramis never claimed to be the best dancer in the world, he had rhythm and he knew how to make women hot under the collar.

“I’m Rafael,” he said, having to shout over the loud booming music. He never used his real name, a habit he had picked up from his dubious past.

"Christine,” she replied and then shrugged. “Well Chrissie.”

He smiled. “I’m all alone. I was on a stag do but I think they left me here and went off somewhere else. You don’t mind keeping me company, do you?” She shrugged a little again, like it didn’t bother her much at all what he did. “You dance better than them anyway,” he added. That made her smile. It only took two more songs before he had his hand around her waist and she was grinding up against his leg. He could hear her heart beating loudly in his ear. She smelt of wine, sweat and blood. It was the most intoxicating scent. He sniffed her during a moment when she moved particularly close. When she pulled back he suddenly found himself staring into the chocolate eyes. She smiled and he made his move. Closing his eyes he kissed her and very soon learnt that her tongue was pierced too.

There was a moment when Aramis got out of the taxi and the cool night breeze whirled around him that he suddenly wondered what he was doing. This was a really bad idea. Once they were inside the house they’d be alone. He’d be tempted. Why did he keep falling back into the habit? Except habit was a tame word for what he did. Yet Chrissie was smiling at him and reached for his hand. She dragged him up the steps towards her apartment block. She kissed him again at the bottom of the stairs and then he followed her up. Before he had time to question his situation further, he was soon inside her apartment.

The second the door closed she jumped on him, kissing him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He grabbed her thighs and carried her into the unfamiliar place. She was obviously inviting him inside so at least that wasn’t a problem. Her pierced tongue was doing things which was driving him crazy. When she pulled her mouth away she was panting. She quickly looked over her shoulder as Aramis continued to carry her.

“Sofa,” she ordered and Aramis glanced past her seeing the sofa with the red throw. He took her over to it and pretty much dropped her onto it. Crawling on top of her he lowered himself onto her warm body. Her fingers were sliding up his shirt and scratching his skin. He liked that. He rubbed against her, kissing her again. He felt himself twitch inside his trousers. Soon she was tugging at his shirt and trying to get it off. He chuckled and pulled away for a moment, pushing himself up to undo a few buttons of his shirt and then tug it off over his head. He threw it away somewhere. She studied his body and licked her lips.

“Yum,” she grinned and then laughed. “Your skin is so cold. I like it.”

Gripping his hair she tugged his head back down for another kiss. He moaned in delight as their tongues rubbed up against each other. This time her hands were exploring his back, running down his spine before finding his arse and giving it a hard squeeze. She pulled his groin closer and he obliged, rubbing his growing erection up against her so she would know how much she turned him on. Reaching down he grabbed onto her leg and wrapped it around his waist, opening her legs up for him. He pushed at her skirt, shoving it further up her thighs. He felt the fabric of her underwear and decided that it was flimsy enough to rip it off. But, for the moment, he lifted his hips slightly so he could slip his fingers inside her underwear. It didn’t take him long to find the spot which made her pull her lips away, throw her head back and moan. He continued to rub, looking down and watching her face as she groaned in delight. Then he looked at her neck. He could see a thick vein pumping the delicious blood up to her brain. The blood, the delectable, mouth-watering liquid that would give him that mind-altering rush which he longed for so incredibly badly. He leaned down slowly, his mouth heading towards her neck. He felt his teeth come out, pushing through his gums. His two sharp teeth were just about to press into the soft skin when a phone rang. It made Aramis jump and he pulled his mouth away quickly, closing his lips so she wouldn’t see.

“Ignore it,” she whispered and tried to pull his face back towards her neck. It kept on ringing before the sound of the answer machine came on and the sweet voice of Chrissie herself was telling people to leave a message after the tone. Then another voice, the sound of a stressed woman, older than Chrissie.

“Darling, are you there?” the voice asked. “Pick up if you are. Amelia isn’t settling. I think she’s teething again and missing her mother. Are you home yet? It’s best you come and get her.”

Chrissie sighed and Aramis swiftly looked around the room. It didn’t take him very long to notice the toys in a box beside the wall, the Pepper Pig DVD on the table and a picture in a photo-frame of Chrissie cuddling a very gorgeous little girl who looked very much like her. The reality of it all quickly sunk in for Aramis and he pushed himself up. Chrissie looked disappointed.

“It’s fine, it’s just my mother. She can wait a little while.”

Aramis shook his head. “No, sorry, I can’t.” He got up off the sofa and looked for his shirt.

"Seriously?” Chrissie asked, sitting up herself and adjusting her clothes. “You’re buggering off because you found out I have a kid?”

Aramis didn’t say anything. It wasn’t important why she thought he was bailing.

“You bastard,” she muttered just before throwing a cushion at him. That was his cue to leave. The second he was outside he fell against the wall of the apartment building and hit himself on the side of the head. Why did that keep happening? Why couldn’t he just stop? Three years of not killing and yet he struggled with self-control as much now as he had three years ago. Did it not get any easier? He hit himself again.

A couple of hours later he tried to creep back home quietly, he was quite good at it too, being a vampire. But Athos was sitting on the coach with the lamp on and immediately spotted Aramis. He had clearly been waiting up.

“Where have you been?” He asked, his attention away from his book.

“No-where,” was the immediate response although it came out as a rather subdued mumble. Athos gave him a glare but then patted the spot on the couch next to him. Athos already knew Aramis too well and he could tell when Aramis needed some company. Aramis went over and sat down next to his housemate.

“I went to a club. I had a couple of drinks, did some dancing then I walked around for a while.”

"Walked around for a while?” Athos asked, sounding like he didn’t entirely believe it.

“Yes, in the dark. It’s what vampires do.”

“If you say so.” They both sat in silence for a couple of minutes and then Aramis spotted the pizza box. He leaned forward to check if he had left himself a slice. When he opened the lid and discovered that there was nothing left he scowled.

“You really didn’t drink from anyone did you?” Athos suddenly said, it wasn’t really a question though, more of a statement. “You’re craving junk food. Porthos said that your eating issues started after your time in rehab.”

“I had to replace one addiction with another,” Aramis pointed out, leaning back on the couch and sulking. “But I don’t have an eating issue. I’m a vampire, I can’t put on weight.”

“I’ll get you something.” Athos got up and disappeared into the kitchen. He searched the cupboard until he found a box of small donuts. Another of Aramis’ favourites. He brought the box back into the living-room and passed it to Aramis whose face suddenly lit up with delight. Whilst Aramis munched on the donuts, making those ridiculously arousing noises again, Athos watched him for a while.

"It’s quite amazing what you’ve done really. It must be difficult fighting against such a primal desire.”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Aramis mumbled with a mouthful of donut. “Talking about it just makes it worse.” Athos nodded, although he found that he couldn’t help himself.

“How did you talk about it in rehab?”

Aramis shrugged, finally swallowing down the donuts. “I pretended I was addicted to heroin. It’s not that dissimilar really….apart from the killing part. I hated that place though. The group therapy, having to talk to the up-his-own-arse psychiatrist, painting pictures of my feelings……it only became fun once I found the sex addicts group. Those guys were far more interesting.”

Athos’ eyes went wide and he quickly decided that he didn’t need to know. Thankfully Aramis decided not to delve into that story.

“But it worked. It’s worth staying clean just so Porthos and Constance don’t do another ‘intervention’.”

"I’m sure they just did it because they care.”

Aramis nodded, finishing off another donut and licking his fingers, “I know.”

There was another silence, this time it didn’t last as long before Aramis added, “I miss Porthos.”

"I know,” Athos said, reaching out and patting Aramis on the leg. Athos could touch Aramis because Aramis was a supernatural creature and had one foot in the afterlife himself. Only his hand seemed to linger there without him even realising. They both started at the hand for a little while before looking up at the same time. Their eyes locked. Aramis still felt horny, terribly horny. And Athos was there looking all dishevelled and warm for a ghost, so warm. He needed to taste those lips. He needed a hot body to warm him up. Aramis leaned over towards him, aiming for his lips when he suddenly sensed someone in the hallway. He turned his face towards the intruder and growled, his teeth coming out and his eyes going black before he had the chance to stop them. D’Artagnan jumped a mile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Next chapter.........return of the wolf]


	4. Toast snatcher

When Porthos woke up in the woods he felt cold and surprisingly full. He just hoped that he had eaten some rabbits or a fox this time. The last time he had woken up feeling full he also stumbled across a carcass of a deer. The deer gave him a bad stomach for three whole days. He didn’t want to go through that again.

Quickly looking around to get some sort of bearing, Porthos cupped his manhood and started dashing off naked through the woods. He hoped that he’d find his car before he found some unsuspecting walkers. He’d already been arrested for indecent exposure once and he didn’t want to go through that again either.

It took him a good hour before figuring out where he was and then another thirty minutes to reach his car. Eventually he was there though and he grabbed his bag from the back-seat which was full of his clothes. He was desperate to get back home and see the others again. Athos, Constance and Aramis. He was especially desperate to see Aramis again. Their fucked up friendship and his fucked up friends were the best thing that had ever happened to him. For the first time since he had run away from his werewolf pack he felt normal again. Happy, settled….loved. Aramis loved him and, whilst it may not be in the exact way that Porthos wanted Aramis to love him, it was enough. It was wonderful. He smiled thinking about Aramis and the others as he drove back home. He hoped that they’d be there. He hated going back to an empty house after his change. Thankfully he needn’t worry, the boys were sitting on the sofa watching football when he came back.

He grinned at them when he walked in and they both looked at him rather nonchalant. In fact they both looked quite exhausted. He wondered if they were taking the piss. A smile would have been nice, or a hug….even a cup of tea. He immediately saw the rather impressive pile of empty crisp packets, chocolate wrappers, coke cans and dirty plates on the coffee table. Had he really been gone that long?

“Aramis, what happened?” Porthos gasped, looking from the mess to his friend. Aramis seemed confused at the question.

“Nothing, why?”

“You’ve obviously been comfort eating.”

“Oh,” Aramis waved his hand like he was waving Porthos away. “Half of that is d’Artagnan's. He might look skinny but he can eat like a horse.”

“D’Artagnan?” Porthos asked, it took a few seconds for it to click. Right, d’Artagnan, the one whose father was killed by Athos’ ex-wife. It was all starting to come back to him.

“Yeah he’s in the shower,” Aramis explained, he was still paying more attention to the TV than to Porthos. Porthos stood there blankly for a moment. He knew that he wanted to ask but he wasn’t sure if he should. He found that he couldn't help himself.

“Why is he in our shower?”

“Good question, ask Athos.”

Athos glared at Aramis for a moment. “You’re the one that showed him your teeth.”

“That was your fault.”

Porthos shook his head, trying to take it all in. He decided that he didn’t even have the energy. He was too tired from his change and he was hungry again, he wanted breakfast. He walked into the kitchen and searched the cupboards. Thankfully Constance had been food shopping, she was the only one that ever did it. He broke a couple of eggs into a bowl and got out a frying-pan. He was waiting for the pan to heat up when his sensitive hearing picked up someone walking into the kitchen and he could smell the vampire scent long before arms wrapped around his waist from behind and he was suddenly cuddled. It made him smile. Aramis could sometimes act like a vampire, a little cold and aloof, but it didn’t take long for his big heart to come through.

“I missed you,” came the voice as a cheek was pushed up against his shoulder blade.

“I missed you too,” Porthos said, staying where he was, putting the eggs into the pan to scramble them. “Was everything really okay?”

Aramis knew full well that it was a loaded question and answered with a rather brutally honest, “I didn’t kill anyone but I did go clubbing.”

This made Porthos frown and he turned his head. Aramis backed away from the hug, obviously knowing that Porthos was going to be angry.

“I keep telling you not to do that,” Porthos said sternly. “That’s like an alcoholic going to a pub or a sex addict going to a brothel or a geek going to Forbidden Planet. You need to avoid being places where you’ll be tempted.”

“I’m tempted everywhere,” Aramis pointed out.

“You’re not here,” Porthos said before turning back to his eggs and putting some toast on. “You can’t drink from me or Athos and you always control yourself around Constance. It’s safe around us.”

This made Aramis sigh dramatically and spin around until he was delving into the cupboard for food. “I can’t spend every single moment of my life stuck in his house. I’ll get cabin fever. I’ll go mad. I’ll eat you out of house and home and then I will eat Constance and it’ll be all your fault.”

Porthos rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore that last comment. He heard cupboards opening and closing behind him.

“You go out when you go to work. So you won’t be stuck in the house all of the time.”

“Yes, wonderful,” Aramis said, coming back over to the counter where Porthos was preparing breakfast, leaning against the side and folding his arms. “Because you know how much I love working in the hospital morgue.”

“It’s a job,” Porthos pointed out. He himself also worked at the hospital but as a porter. The morgue freaked him out but he knew that, secretly, Aramis liked it down there. He also knew that Aramis had been put there by his vampire elders to help them cover up various vampire-related deaths, but Porthos didn’t like to think about that too much. Thankfully Aramis had tried to distance himself from those horrible vampires in recent years.

“Yeah. You know I’ve been thinking about that. Since Athos can’t work, because he’s a ghost and all, we should make him pay rent in other ways.”

Aramis wiggled his eyebrows and suddenly had a grin on his face.

“I’m not sure I even want to know,” Porthos responded but that didn’t seem to deter Aramis.

“He’s very cute, don’t you think? That whole moody and depressed thing he has going on. It makes me want to….do things to him.”

Porthos tried not to listen but he didn’t have much choice with Aramis standing right beside him. His stomach started to tighten.

“I think he just needs a bit of loving if you ask me,” Aramis continued. Porthos had no-idea if Aramis was joking or being serious, it was difficult to tell sometimes. But the tight feeling in his stomach wasn’t going away. Was he….jealous? Before he had to contemplate his feelings the toast popped up and Aramis immediately grabbed one slice and stuck it in his mouth.

“Aramis!” Porthos yelled but it was too late, the vampire had already disappeared from the kitchen.

Somehow, after discovering that d’Artagnan knew that Athos was a ghost and Aramis was a vampire and they had been up all night eating and talking about the afterlife, it was deemed that Porthos taking d’Artagnan home was the only option. It wasn’t safe for ghosts to drive cars and Aramis had scared him enough. So soon he was in the car with the lad sitting in the passenger seat beside him giving him directions to his cousin’s house.

“So, you cleared things up with Athos?” Porthos asked, not wanting to pry but he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t interested. There was still so much that he wanted to know and perhaps getting it from d’Artagnan instead of Athos was the sneaky way to find out.

“Yes,” d’Artagnan nodded. “I was wrong about him. I thought he had protected her, helped her even. Now I know that wasn’t the case.”

D’Artagnan’s voice trailed off. Porthos wanted to know more but he needed to be clever. He wanted the kid to assume that he already knew. So he paused and thought about how he was going to respond for a moment.

“Athos is a good man...well ghost.”

“Yes. He has suffered too. She’s the one that killed my father as well as all of the others. I won’t rest until I find her.”

Porthos glanced at the boy and saw the determination in his face and knew automatically that this would probably mean trouble for all of them.

“You’re going to find Athos’ ex-wife?”

“Of course!” D’Artagnan said, like it was a given. “She murdered six people in the village, six innocent people and then she just disappeared. There needs to be justice.”

“Does Athos know that you’re going to hunt her down?” Porthos asked curiously.

“Umm I didn’t mention it to him. But he must need some closure as well. Maybe that’s why he’s still hanging around.”

Porthos thought about it. The kid had a point. Although there was a part of Porthos that didn’t mind the fact Athos was ‘hanging around’. Suddenly he remembered something which had been on the news a little while ago. He had managed to see part of the story before Constance had turned over to America’s New Top Model or whatever she had wanted to watch.

“The murders in village, I remember now. Six people from the same village all murdered in a year and they never caught who did it.”

“Yes,” d’Artagnan said weakly. “Only everyone in the village knew who it was, Comtesse de la Fère. She even left a calling card at each murder scene, a bluebell. The manor house was covered in bluebells during the spring. But the police never had enough evidence or they tried to cover it up. Either way, she got away with it.”

“Shit I didn’t….I mean….I never knew that was Athos and his wife. I guess I didn’t know who Athos was back then. Aramis and I just sort of found him a couple of years ago, after he was dead.”

“And, once he died, the murders stopped,” d’Artagnan explained. “Another reason why I was convinced that he was somehow involved. Covering for her at the very least but he wasn’t. The murders stopped because she was doing them to punish him.”

“Punish him?” Porthos asked. Okay so that was a question but he hoped that he had got away with it. It seemed like he had because d’Artagnan continued to talk.

“Yes. She was killing everyone he knew one-by-one, that’s what he told me. That’s why he killed himself, so she’d stop murdering.”

Suddenly Porthos slammed on the brakes of the car which sent them both flying into their seat-belts. The car behind almost smacked into the back of them but just about managed to stop in time, beeping its horn furiously.

“Athos killed himself?!”

D’Artagnan looked startled. “You...didn’t know?” He stared at Porthos’ face for a while before adding, “Oh I fucked up.”

“I…” Porthos struggled to know what to say but the car behind was still beeping. He swore at the driver who couldn’t even hear him and drove off, trying to concentrate on the road. “Aramis and I decided not to find out and let Athos tell us when he was ready.”

“He jumped off a bridge,” d’Artagnan helpfully pointed out, although helpful wasn’t really the word. Porthos started to picture it. Athos standing alone on the bridge the guilt of all of those deaths weighing him down. The belief that he had to end his own life to stop more people from dying. It upset him to think of Athos like that. So alone. So desperate. He found himself blinking as his eyes became wet.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Porthos said with a bit of a sniff. D’Artangan, who was looking at him, nodded.

“It’s okay, we’re nearly there, my cousin lives on the next road.”

By the time Porthos got back to the house his head was spinning. Just a couple of days ago they were three blokes who didn’t know how to cook and clean attempting to live in a house together. Whilst their pasts had been colourful, they’d all stepped away from those and settled down into an existence of strange normality. Now there was a murderous ex-wife and a young man trying to hunt her down and it all felt very different. Drama had found them again. Perhaps he could pretend that he didn’t know. He wouldn’t tell Aramis about the suicide and wouldn’t tell Athos that the lad was going to hunt down his ex-wife. Yes. I mean how would d’Artagnan do it anyway? I wasn’t like he could just search on google. Porthos had his mind made up by the time he got back to the house. He even tried to smile when he went back in. Aramis was holding the phone and being chased around the living-room by Athos.

“It is called duty and honour!” Athos was barking at him, trying to snatch the phone out of his hand. However he was no match for the vampire who had the ability to move at inhuman speeds. Porthos stood and watched them for a moment and decided that he had to ask.

“What’s going on?”

Athos looked over at Porthos, his face full of anger.

“Aramis is going to phone in sick again. I’m trying to stop him. He’s a vampire, he doesn’t get sick. It is both dishonest and disrespectful.”

“What do you know about it?” Aramis said, he was standing on the sofa. “You don’t have to work. You can spend your days playing World of Warcock in your bedroom.”

“I don’t play World of War _craft_ in my bedroom,” Athos informed him. “It’s Call of Duty.”

Porthos shook his head. It was like living with children. “Aramis,” he said, trying to sound as firm as he could when speaking to the person who he knew full well had him wrapped around his little finger. “I’m doing a night-shift tonight so we’ll both be there. Don’t phone in sick.”

“Oh are you?” Aramis said and immediately dropped the phone which bounced on the sofa and fell onto the carpet. “I didn’t know that.” He jumped off the sofa like nothing had happened.

Athos turned to Porthos.

“How was d’Artagnan? Did you get him back okay?”

The mention of the name made Porthos freeze. No, he mustn’t say anything.

“Yes, I dropped him off. I don’t think he wants to beat you to a pulp any more so everything is fine again. Would you like to talk about it?” Porthos didn’t want Athos to feel like they couldn’t carry on their conversation from the previous night, even though he knew far more than Athos realised that he knew. However, Athos shook his head.

“No,” he said and left the living-room. Porthos wasn’t sure if that was a way to avoid the conversation or just because he was pissed off with Aramis.

“What?” Aramis asked and Porthos suddenly realised that he had been staring at an empty hallway.

“What what?” Porthos said but didn’t look at Aramis, instead he headed for the stairs to have a shower.

“Don’t what what me,” Aramis said, catching up to Porthos pretty quickly and grabbing him by the arm to stop him.

“Something’s wrong. What happened?”

Porthos was baffled by Aramis’ ability to always know such things. He was pretty certain that it wasn’t even a vampire trait, it was just Aramis.

“Nothing,” Porthos reassured him. He hated lying to his best-friend but the situation was messy enough as it was.


	5. This isn't Hogwarts

“This is a bin,” Constance said very slowly, like she was explaining it to someone whose first language wasn’t French. She was currently standing in their kitchen wearing yet another 1950’s dress and had her hair tied back with a red ribbon. “We put the rubbish into the bin. Watch.”

The three men watched as Constance picked up an empty drink bottle and put it into the bin.

“Shouldn’t that go into the recycling?” Aramis asked.

“WATCH!”  Constance shouted; Aramis jumped and Porthos chuckled. Athos stood off to one side, face stoic but listening to their lesson obediently.

“This…” Constance continued as he moved a couple of steps tothe side and pointed at an appliance, “…is a dishwasher. When you’ve used a plate, you rinse it in the sink and then place it into the dishwasher. Porthos, would you like to have a go?”

“Constance, I know how to…”

“DO IT!” she barked.This time it was Porthos who jumped and he quickly hurried over to the sink to demonstrate his abilities.

Half an hour later their lesson in basic house-keeping skills was over and they all looked relieved. Athos, who was Constance’ star-pupil, made his excuses and went back up to his bedroom while the other two hurried about getting ready for work. They were both grateful when they were finally at the hospital, because it meant being away from Constance for a while. Sick people were so much easier to deal with. During a break they both sat in the café eating lunch, Aramis wearing his blue scrubs and Porthos in his dark blue porter’s T-shirt.

“Is it quiet today?” Porthos asked, making conversation as he ate his horribly dry tuna and sweetcorn pasta. The hospital food was always awful but sadly they were never organised enough to make their own lunch.

“It’s a morgue, it’s always quiet.”

Porthos rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Aramis gave a little shrug. “A couple of old people died during the night.” He pulled a cucumber out of his sandwich, glared at it and tossed it aside; he didn’t like salad. “And we’ve still got the motor bike accident from yesterday to process. It’s not too busy.”

“Good,” Porthos said. He didn’t actually like hearing about the morgue but he always thought that it was polite to ask. “You know I’ve been thinking, we should try and get Athos out of the house again. It’s not good for him to be stuck in his room all the time and it’s not like people can see him when he’s out anyway.”

“Well,” Aramis said thoughtfully, “maybe that’s why he doesn’t like it. Walking around amongst people who don’t even know you’re there must get a bit depressing after a while. I’m not sure how I’d cope.”

“Well you’re an attention-whore,” Porthos pointed out and Aramis smiled. The smile faded when his gaze caught on something behind Porthos.

“What the fuck?”

Porthos turned to look. D’Artagnan was there wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt, a picture of Ironman emblazoned on the front. He was holding a file of some sort and scanning the room. As soon as he spotted them he gasped and came racing over, zig-zagging around the tables and chairs, apologizing to one person he’d been unable to avoid in his haste.

“What is Sixth-Sense boy doing here?” Aramis whispered although it was more of a hiss. “How did he even know how to find us?”

Porthos suddenly looked a little sheepish. “I probably mentioned our jobs to him whilst making polite conversation in the car.” Aramis rolled his eyes and d’Artagnan was suddenly there, panting as he sat down.

“Thank goodness I found you both,” he said as he pushed the file onto the table and opened it up. “You’re not going to believe what I’ve found.” He started pulling out various papers and photographs. Porthos quickly moved their drinks before there was an accident.

“It’s the police report about the fire at the mansion house where Athos lived. It burnt down just before the killings started. Most of it was ruined but they found something very unusual in one of the rooms.”

“Where did you get all this?” Aramis asked but his question went ignored. Caught up on the contents of the information spread before him, he easily dismissed his own inquiry.

Spread before them were photographs and d’Artagnan pointed to one in particular. It showed a burnt room, full of soot covered walls, blackened windows, torn wallpaper and destroyed furniture. Yet, in the middle of the wooden floor-boards, something had been uncovered. There was a circle painted in red. Inside the circle a pentagram. On each corner of the pentagram there were symbols; a bird, a sun, a crucifix, a tear and the moon. D’Artagnan could tell that he had got their interest and he dug into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It looked like it had been ripped out from a library book.

“I investigated,” he said slamming the paper down onto the table where he began smoothing it out.  “So, vampires and ghosts exist…what about witches?”

From the title of the book which was printed at the top of the page it was clear that the book was on witchcraft and further down it had a drawing of that very symbol and it went on to explain that the symbol was for protection. It kept the environment safe from supernatural creatures.

Aramis glanced at d’Artagnan angrily and kicked out.

“Och!” the boy shrieked. “What the—” suddenly mindful of the unwanted attention his outburst had earned them, he lowered his voice and leaned in. “What was that for?” he whispered, rubbing his shin under the table.

Aramis glared back. “How many times must I remind you?” he hissed through gritted teeth and leaned in to meet the boy. “The v-word is not to be mentioned in the middle of a public place, yeah?”  
  
“Well,” d’Artagnan leaned back, “you didn’t have to kick so hard,” he pouted but was thoroughly chagrined.

“I absolutely did,” Aramis said but his tone and manor became lighter. “A little pain is a powerful reminder of what _not_ to do.”

“This is….crazy,” Porthos interrupted. He’d ignored their little spectacle in favour of his own thoughts. “This was in the house which Athos shared with his wife?”

D’Artagnan nodded. “I always wondered how she managed to kill six people with a single stab wound to the chest and how none of them had any defensive wounds or even seemed to know what was coming. Maybe she put a spell on them.”

Porthos frowned and shook his head. “D’Artagnan, witches don’t exist.”

“Yes they do,” Aramis interrupted very quickly. He glanced apologetically to Porthos but then turned his attention back to d’Artagnan. “Did they do tests on the symbol?”

“Tests?” d’Artagnan asked, clearly confused.

“It’s painted in blood,” Aramis explained. “I assume her blood because men can’t be witches so we can count Athos out of this one.”

Porthos was surprised, he had never heard of real witches before. “He could be a wizard?” he helpfully suggested.

Aramis frowned and tutted at Porthos, like the man had said something extremely stupid. “This isn’t Hogwarts. So, she was a witch. How does this get us any further? And how did the house burn down?”

D’Artagnan’s eyes lit up and Aramis discovered that he has just asked the question young d’Artagnan had been waiting for.

“I don’t know about the house and I don’t know how much Athos knows, but you two could find out. Also you could ask your vampire friends if they know about her. I’ve been reading up on witches. They suck the souls of humans to become immortal. So vampires must know some witches and witches must know some vampires…”

“Shhh!” Aramis hissed, worried that people might overhear them. He leaned forward and didn’t look very happy about the way the conversation was going. “We’re not a club. We don’t have a community page on facebook. It doesn’t work like that. I knew a few, but not all of them.”

“Then you can ask your friends. Aramis…” D’Artagnan leaned forward too. “…she killed my father. Please, he deserves justice. He was a good man and I found his body discarded in the garden like he was nothing but…” His voice had started to shake and his eyes were welling up with tears. “They were all innocent people. Please, Aramis, please.”

Aramis went quiet for a while looking at d’Artagnan for he knew that he had killed quite a few innocent people himself. Although perhaps this was his chance to make up for that. Perhaps he was being given the opportunity to finally make amends for his wrong-doings. Maybe this was God’s deal to him.

“What is the name of ex-Mrs Athos?” Aramis asked, deciding to play along for the time-being.

D’Artagnan gave a shrug. “When she was married to Athos she was called Comtesse de la Fère.”

The name didn’t ring a bell for Aramis but then most immortals did change their name on a regular basis. Aramis was not the name he was given at birth after all. He couldn’t help but melt at the boy’s pleading eyes. It reminded him of that cat in the Shrek movies. He wanted to reach out and stroke him but, instead, after groaning at himself for being such a pushover he gave in.

“Alright, I’ll ask around. But if this gets me into trouble, you’re going to owe me a lifetime subscription to Domino’s pizza and I’m going to live for a very long time.”

D’Artagnan nodded like the deal was done. Even though he didn’t have the money for that, but Aramis wasn’t to know.

“And,” Aramis added. “None of us can tell Athos that we’re looking for her.”

Porthos frowned, he was being forced to keep quiet once again, which he really didn’t like. He didn’t see why they couldn’t just ask Athos what they needed to know and be honest with him. Except Athos would be angry at them for being curious, probably tell them to leave his ex-wife alone and then shut-down with all of them. Oh yes, that was why, but that didn’t mean he had to avoid Athos. Once they were back from their shift Porthos went upstairs and knocked on the man’s door.

“Come in!” a muffled response answered.

Porthos pushed the door open and stopped to let his eyes adjust.

The room was dark inside, the curtains drawn. Athos was sitting on his bed wearing the same clothes that he always wore. Dark blue jeans and a tatty black jumper. The clothes he had worn on the day he died. The clothes he was wearing when he’d jumped off the bridge. Porthos felt sad again thinking about it, he walked over to the bed, looking at the TV which was hooked up to the some games console.

“Do you not need to sleep either?” Porthos asked, as he sat down on the bed beside Athos.

“I don’t need to but sometimes I do,” Athos said although his eyes were on the computer game. “It makes time go faster.”

Porthos stared at Athos for a while, watching in silence as he played his game. It soon became unnerving and Athos turned to Porthos.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Porthos said, shaking his head and realising that Athos would suspect something if he acted strange. “Can you do that two-player thing on this one?”

Athos paused for a moment, a little surprised that one of them would be interested in playing one of his games. Then he actually smiled and passed Porthos a second controller.

Downstairs, Aramis sat staring at his phone. It had been on the same screen for the past ten minutes and this thumb had been lingering over the call button. He wanted to make the call but there was something holding him back.

Perhaps it was the memory of the battle, the memory of being abandoned at a time when he’d needed his maker most. The memory of his maker turning up decades later and just expecting Aramis to forgive him, the memory of the fact that Aramis had so easily done just that.  With a very loud and drawn-out sigh and, with a shaking finger, Aramis pressed the button ‘dial Marsac’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [In the next chapter......Marsac and Treville]


	6. Vampire porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis gets caught red-faced and then someone from his past comes back into his life. Porthos and Constance stage yet another intervention.
> 
> [I've decided to make the chapters slightly longer! Thanks for all the kudos :) I hope you enjoy the introduction of a vampire, a pub owner and a ghost.]

It was the terrified scream that alerted Athos to the fact something was wrong.

Almost on instinct Athos dropped his book, sprung from his bed and raced for the door. All he knew was that it had come from downstairs and it sounded female, although it could have been Aramis, sometimes it was difficult to tell.

Tearing down the stairs, at the last step, he skidded to a halt in the badly wallpapered hallway; a discarded bag of groceries lay scattered about on the floor. He turned quickly to look through the archway into the living-room. Constance was there kneeling on the carpet in front of Aramis, she had her fingers in Aramis’ hair and she was tugging on it. Aramis’ eyes were midnight black and his alarmingly sharp vampire teeth were out.

“No!” Athos yelled and bolted into the room fearing the worst, fully prepared to tackle Aramis if he had to in order to stop the vampire from hurting Constance. Only it was Constance who turned to him quickly.

“It’s okay!” she yelled suddenly at Athos before turning her attention back to Aramis, her fingers not losing their firm grip on his hair. Athos then realised that she wasn’t tugging his head away, she was trying to make him look at her, pulling his head up so that their eyes would meet. Only Aramis didn’t seem to be very keen on the idea and he was looking everywhere apart from at Constance.

“You promised us that you’d gotten rid of all the DVDs. You promised, Aramis.”

Aramis was still trying to avoid her angry stare, his black eyes were fixed down at the carpet. He had a sense of shame on his features which Athos had never seen before.

Behind Aramis, on the TV screen, was a very odd looking black and white movie. No, it wasn’t a movie, it was footage from a hidden camera of some sort. Athos squinted and stepped forward into the room a little more, trying to see what the camera footage revealed. It seemed to be filming a hotel room and there was a naked male body on the ground. Blood was soaking the rug beneath the body as the dying man twitched and then finally stilled.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Constance just sighed and finally let go of Aramis’ hair. She stood up and brushed down her white dress with blue flowers. Athos liked that one. He thought she looked pretty when she wore it.

“Why don’t you explain to Athos what you were doing?” Constance said, her words full of annoyance, or was it disappointment?

The brown eyes were making a reappearance and the vampire teeth sunk back into the gums. Aramis was also fumbling about doing up the flies and button of his jeans. Athos hadn’t even noticed that those had been undone. What _had_ he been doing?

“It’s vampire porn,” Constance explained after a few silent seconds when it was obvious that Aramis wasn’t going to speak. “They film themselves having sex and killing, then send it to each other. Not that you can see the vampires mind you as you can’t capture their images but you see the victims having sex and then being murdered. Watching these videos…excites them.” She made a bit of a face, her feelings on the matter suddenly very clear although, if in doubt, she added... “It’s disturbing.”

Athos listened to the explanation and wasn’t really sure what he thought about this ‘vampire porn’ but he soon realised that they had further company. Porthos had appeared beside him having emerged from his own bedroom.

“What was that scream all about?” he asked all of them, looking rather ruffled and less than pleased at being woken up. Constance sighed for a second time and seemed a little defeated.

“He was watching one of those movies,” she explained.

Porthos frowned and looked over at his friend; Aramis still hadn’t moved from the floor. “You told us you’d burnt them all.”

Aramis still wasn’t speaking but he was finally looking at them. Seeing Porthos only seemed to fuel the sense of shame which was evident by the way his eyebrows were pushing together. He’d been caught and he knew it. Athos could also see from his expression that he was close to tears, water balancing just above his bottom eyelids. Although Athos wasn’t entirely sure if the vampire was upset, annoyed or what was going on inside his head.

“Aramis?” Porthos called, waiting for his friend to say something. Aramis stood abruptly, fists clenched as he turned to confront them all. The shame was gone and now he was snarling. So, he was angry.

“You don’t understand!” he yelled so loudly that Athos flinched at the sudden outburst.

“We do understand, Aramis,” Constance said, her voice remaining calm despite his outburst. “But you can’t keep one foot in your old life if you want to move on from it. It won’t work.”

“How do you know what works?!” Aramis shouted at her. Gone was his loving fear of Constance, he was letting out something which must have been bubbling under the surface for a while. “None of you have any idea what it’s like for me. To wake up every single day craving blood. To notice all the veins pumping and hearts beating everywhere. To catch a scent of a human and want to feed so badly that your skin itches all over.”

“We try to understand,” Porthos declared, attempting to help Constance out. “We all have our crosses to bear, Aramis, excuse the term. I’m terrified of the wolf. Constance has to look after us, understand all of this and keep our secrets. And Athos is, well, dead. We’ve all got our own things to deal with. I know it isn’t easy but all this was your idea. Being human…you wanted to try this.”

Aramis nodded though it was clear his fury was laced with frustration. He blinked and the unshed tears leaked out of his eyes and rolled down the sides of his cheeks. He swung about from foot to foot, obviously trying to calm himself down and he was succeeding. His fingers loosened from the fists and he eventually stopped moving.

“I know,” he whispered as his anger subsided. “I know. I thought it was possible. I was wrong.”

“No,” Porthos stepped forward. “Don’t say that. It _is_ possible.” He reached out for his friend but when Aramis moved away, he lowered his arm again, trying not to show his disappointment at being rejected. “We’re doing it,” he continued. “It’s just a stupid DVD, I’m sorry. It’s nothing. It’s not like you’ve bitten someone. You’re doing really well.”

“I’m not doing well,” Aramis said, still staggering backwards to put more distance between himself and Porthos. He ran trembling fingers through his tussled hair. “I can’t keep it up. I thought it would get easier but it isn’t. I need blood.”

“No, no you don’t,” Porthos said. He shot forward and grabbed Aramis by the arms before the vampire had the chance to retreat. He held onto Aramis and looked down at him with all of the love that Athos knew he had for the man. “You’re a different person now. You’re a good person. You always were deep down but your dark side was controlling you. Now you’re _you_. Don’t give up on that.”

Constance nodded and she stepped closer as well.

“He’s right, Aramis,” she said, joining in. “I remember when we first met when you were still killing. To be blunt you were an utter bastard. And, to his day, I still don’t understand why you didn’t kill me but I’m grateful that you didn’t. I’m grateful that you asked me to help you. We all want to help you.”

Athos suddenly felt drawn to say something. He was part of their family now, part of the pack. He wanted Aramis to know his thoughts as well.

“You’re the strongest gentleman I know,” he mumbled and then felt a little embarrassed about it. They all stopped and looked at him; even Aramis who, for the first time, started to smile. It was a small smile but smile all the same. 

“Thank you,” he whispered to all of them and then lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Porthos tightly.

The tense moment broke, they all smiled as they watched the two men hug, until Aramis reached his arm out and waved at the other two to join in. Constance quickly did, wrapping her arms around both of her boys. Athos reluctantly joined in too and soon found himself being embraced.

And they stayed in that moment until Constance mumbled, “You’re still getting rid of that sodding DVD.”

Athos was starting to feel uncomfortable with all of the physical contact, he was never one for hugs even before he was a ghost. When he felt a hand move to his arse and give it a squeeze he tried not to yelp. Thankfully there was a buzzing noise which made the offending hand, which obviously belonged to Aramis, disappear as the vampire pulled away and dug into the pocket of his skinny jeans.

“We should all start being honest with each other,” Porthos was saying as Aramis looked at his phone. “From today. No secrets between us. Right, Aramis? Maybe it’s time we talked to Athos.”

Aramis wasn’t paying any attention, he was too busy reading a text message. When he looked up it was clear that he hadn’t been listening. “What?” he asked when he realised that they were all looking at him. “Sorry, I have to go.”

Porthos frowned. “Go where?”

“Oh, just going to meet someone from work,” he said rather nonchalant as he shot past them all and went out into the hallway.

“It’s about seven in the damn morning.”

Aramis just smiled sweetly and grabbed his leather jacket. Within seconds he was gone out of the front door and the others were left standing there, Athos feeling the most frustrated of them all. Talk to me about what? He thought. 

\------------------------------------------------

Aramis hated rush hour and he hated it even more when he found himself walking in the opposite direction of everyone else. It was like attempting to swim against a school of fish swept up in a ferocious sea current. Only these fish were humans in suits and high heels all talking on mobile phones.

Shoving and bashing his way through the early morning commuters, Aramis eventually reached the agreed meeting place, a railway bridge overlooking the river. There it was quiet and, if it was possible for his heart to beat faster, it would have been. Only vampire’s hearts barely beat at all so, instead, he found himself pacing up and down with a sense of anxiety building up the longer he waited. After a good few minutes of waiting a voice brought him up short.

“Hello, Aramis.”

Aramis turned slowly and watched Marsac walk along the train-track towards him. Part of Aramis hoped that he’d accidentally electrocute himself, it’s not like he’d die and it would just be funny watching him suffer. Unfortunately Marsac made it to Aramis unharmed.

He looked different. His hair was short and his long tan coat, green shirt and clumpy black boots made him look like a vagrant, although he always was one of those. He continued to walk over until he made the mistake of being within arm’s reach of Aramis, a welcoming smile on his handsome face. Aramis immediately swung his arm and punched Marsac in the jaw. The older vampire’s head jerked backwards but he managed to stay on his feet.

Marsac rubbed at his sore face. “Do you do that because it’s tradition now? Or are you still angry at me?” he asked with a hint of amusement, hunched over and out of reach.

“Both,” Aramis responded with a sneer, his offending fist still clenched and ready for more. “This meeting is going to be very short. Just tell me what you came here to say.”

Now it was Marsac’s turn to looked annoyed as he stood up straight again. “Hold on, _you_ called _me_. You asked for _my_ help.”

“I didn’t want to see you!” Aramis said, extending his arms in a gesture of annoyance.

Marsac sighed. “Then why are you here, Aramis?” he asked dropping his hand and staring at his former friend. He looked Aramis up and down, his expression giving nothing away.

“Because you said that you needed to tell me in person. So, here I am, in person. Tell me then so we can go our separate ways.”

Marsac snorted a little, although a smile was on his lips. “I haven’t fed in four days. Let’s go hunting together. Then I’ll tell you.”

Aramis shook his head furiously. “No, I don’t do that anymore.”

The confusion was quickly evident on his maker’s face. Then he squinted his eyes as if he was studying something. “You don’t hunt? I had heard rumours, I didn’t believe them though. Although that does explain why you look like shit.”

Aramis felt offended. He did not look like shit. He had been using a new shampoo recently which was making his hair look more vibrant than usual, Constance had even mentioned it, so he knew he looked great.

“Fuck you, you don’t get the right to have an opinion.”

The smile on Marsac’s face grew wider and he moved away from Aramis, turning to admire the view of the river as he danced on the train-lines. “No, no I don’t. I didn’t say that I wasn’t impressed. I’ve met a handful of vampires who have been clean for decades but most that try don’t tend to last more than a few months and that’s if they _really_ try. How long has it been for you?” Marsac was glancing at him again, curious.

“Three years,” Aramis said with an air of pride.

“Wow,” Marsac laughed. The laughter grated on Aramis. “That is impressive. Aramis, the notoriously charming ruthless killer, now clean. Extraordinary. Was it because of a girl…a guy?”

Aramis frowned. He hadn’t come to be questioned by the man who had no right to question him at all. “None of your business. Just say what you came here to tell me.”

With a shake of his head Marsac turned and walked away, “No. I need to feed first. You can wait.”

“Marsac!” Aramis yelled, now furious with his maker. “You bastard, tell me!” But the older vampire ignored his pleas and continued to walk. Aramis hesitated. He didn’t want to follow him but he knew, if he wanted the information for d’Artagnan, then he’d have too. 

\-----------------------------------------

All attempts at trying to get Porthos to tell him what he had wanted to talk about failed miserably. At every inquiry he’d only shake his head and say that they needed to wait for Aramis and then disappeared into the kitchen with Constance. Athos decided to give up. He figured if it was important then he’d find out in due time. He was just worried that it had something to do with d’Artagnan.

Four hours later he was summoned into the living-room by Constance. At first Athos was curious, wondering if this was going to be the talk. Yet, instead of talking, Constance and Porthos just sat there on the sofa looking at him, which only served to make Athos feel incredibly uncomfortable. Eventually Porthos spoke.

“We’re staging another intervention. Hopefully this one will be slightly easier. The local has re-opened again under new management and a new name. Constance and I are going to check it out. You should come.”

Athos studied the pair of them. “But it’s lunch-time,” he said. Not that he had a problem with spending time in bars and pubs during the evening when it was time to celebrate and socialise, but during the afternoon? He always found that very unnatural.

“People go to the bar for lunch all the time, Athos. We could get some food!” Constance suddenly flinched, obviously cursing herself for making that mistake again. Porthos shot her a quick glare but he was all friendly smiles by the time he looked at Athos again.

“It’ll just be a different environment. It’ll be nice to get out of the house, don’t you think? And with the two of us there, people won’t realise that we’re talking to an invisible third person. It’ll be…fun.”

Porthos was obviously expecting a battle. He was probably expecting the ghost to come up with a stream of excuses and reasons why going to the bar was a bad idea. Instead, Athos found himself shrugging. He wasn’t going to win the battle so why fight at all?

“Okay then.”

The other two looked mystified for a few seconds at how easy that had been and then they both grinned.

The bar had once been a dive, full of broken chairs and peeling wallpaper. Now it looked cosy. The new owner had redecorated with antique swords, brand new wooden furniture and had made the fire-place a feature.

“This is just lovely,” Constance beamed as she floated in wearing her summer-dress, even though it was autumn. Athos immediately looked around for a table in the corner somewhere so he could hide, which was ridiculous considering no-one could see him anyway. As soon as he spotted an ideal position he dashed off, leaving Constance to rush after him and Porthos to order a couple of drinks.

There he watched as Porthos leaned against the bar and waited until the new face, presumably the new owner, came over with a smile. He was an older man, probably mid-40s. He had blond hair and a funny moustache.

“What can I get you?” The man behind the bar asked.

“I’ll have a pint of your best cider,” Porthos said, “and a glass of red wine. And can I see a lunch menu?”

“Coming right up,” he said passing Porthos a menu before setting about getting the drinks. He returned shortly and beamed at Porthos. “So, what do you think about what I’ve done with the place?”

Porthos looked around again and returned with a smile. “I think you’ve done an excellent job, mate. Now I feel like I can eat here without contacting salmonella. I’m Porthos, by the way, I live down the end of the street.”

The man smiled and nodded politely, “I’m Treville, the new owner of The Garrison.” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Aramis had been silently following Marsac all morning. At least he could admire his maker for being fussy and careful. Although he frowned at who Marsac eventually picked, a homeless girl. It was a sensible option for a vampire, pick someone who probably wouldn’t be missed. Someone who no-one would be looking for. Even though they never had to worry because systems in place to cover up vampire related killings were frightening, even to Aramis who had been immersed in that world back when he belonged to a coven. But so she was young, probably in her early 20s. Beneath her dirty face and tangled blond hair she was pretty too.

Aramis watched from around the corner as Marsac charmed her. The fact Marsac was almost dressed like a tramp himself probably worked to his advantage. Aramis wanted to intervene and stop him, but what was the point? If he stopped Marsac from killing her, he’d just go and find someone else.

Aramis let out a shaky sigh as he watched Marsac led the girl away, walking with her towards the canal. Aramis followed them a good few metres behind. Marsac was smiling and laughing, the girl was laughing too. Aramis tried not to think about her past and the brokenness she’d probably run away from. He tried not to think about the fact that any chance she might have had at a future… well, that too was about to end.

He stood back as they both walked along the canal and disappeared beneath a bridge. It’s how he would have done it, back in the day; no one around and water access to dispose of evidence. Yes, all very nice and tidy and well planned out.

Lost in thought, a scream ripped the quiet and Aramis jumped. Desperate to block it out he covered his ears. And when that didn’t suffice, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about what was going on. How many times had he done the same thing and killed someone without even knowing their name. He had killed so many that he had lost count a long time ago. As he stood there he felt like a coward for not saving her. It would be another notch of guilt to add to his very long list.

After a few minutes he lowered his hands just in time to hear a loud splash. He slowly walked towards the bridge and found Marsac standing there, blood all over the stone wall, blood all over the dirt on the ground and blood all over Marsac. He grinned at Aramis, his blood-stained teeth still on display.

“Don’t tell me you don’t miss that. Fresh blood dripping down your throat,” Marsac moaned in delight as he closed his eyes and licked his lips, getting lost in the moment.

But Aramis _did_ remember, and all too well. He remembered the surge of the fresh blood going into him, the strength pumping into his veins, the arousal and ecstasy. Of course he missed it, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Marsac. He stared at the still body face-down in the canal starting to float gently away then turned his attention back to Marsac. Now would be a good time to question him, whilst he was high on blood.

“You’ve fed. Tell me now.”

Marsac opened his eyes again and stared at Aramis for a while.  “I came not only to tell you but to warn you. Come here.”

He was waving Aramis over with his hand. Aramis hesitated for a while, worried about getting close to the blood and close to his maker. Yet he needed the information so he did what he was asked. He stepped closer but still kept a safe distance, until Marsac closed that distance and moved forward, placing his hand on Aramis’ shoulder he looked the other vampire in the eye.

“You do know her. But you don’t know her as Comtesse de la Fère. You know her by another name…Milady De Winter.”

Aramis gasped. No, it couldn’t be. Athos had been married to Milady? Whilst Aramis had never met her all vampires knew of Milady. She was the most powerful witch in Europe. She used to have vampires as her pets. Any vampire that stood against her ended up getting a stake in the heart.

“Aramis,” Marsac was looking very serious underneath his blood splattered face. “I don’t know why you’re asking about her, but don’t. If she finds out you’re looking for her she’ll come to you and you don’t want that.”

Aramis shook his head in agreement. No, he certainly didn’t want her anywhere near. Had Athos really been married to her? How was he still alive? No, wait, he wasn’t alive. Had she killed him? Or had he tamed the witch? Not for long as it obviously turned out because she killed all of those people...

Lost in his musings, Aramis felt a thumb stroking his cheek slowly and, despite himself, he turned his head into it a little, everything was so complicated.

“I’ve missed you,” Marsac whispered.

“Fuck you,” Aramis responded but there was no venom behind it. In fact, he not only relished the touch but soon found himself taking a little step closer to his maker.

“I was rather hoping you’d do that again,” Marsac replied, a soft smile playing on his lips. “But I know you’re still angry,” he continued, the smile fading. “And you have every right to be. I was a coward, I shouldn’t have left you there; I wish I could have been stronger for you. But I love you, Aramis. I always did and I always will. I made you and you’ll always belong to me. My beautiful vampire.”

Suddenly there were lips on his own. Aramis closed his eyes and moaned, accepting the kiss. Next, Marsac pushed and Aramis felt helpless against him as moved back until his back collided with the cold stone wall of the bridge. He felt a body grinding against his own and he tasted blood. Fresh delightful blood.

Senses swirling, Aramis mind shouted: _No! This is not what I want._ He struggled for control, desperate to get a grip on the situation. Groaning into the mouth devouring him, he pushed his hands against Marsac’s chest to push him away but it was too late. He felt the kick, the rush…he felt alive again. He shoved his tongue inside the other mouth to lap up more. 

\-------------------------------------------- 

“This is fun, right?” Porthos asked, grinning before he had another gulp of his pint. It was possibly his fourth but he hadn’t been counting. Constance giggled back, she’d had a few herself. Athos looked at them both longingly. He had at least been talking, telling them all about wine and vineyards and various other things which the other two didn’t understand. Out of all of the food and drink in the world, he missed drinking wine the most. In fact he even found himself licking his lips each time he saw Constance take a sip.

“I love this place!” Constance said. “We should come here all of the time.”

The thought horrified Athos. He turned away from them and was scanning the room when he spotted someone out of place. She was beautiful. Her long blond curls tumbled down her back, the diamond earrings rocking gently as she walked elegantly across the room. Yet it was her clothing which made her stand out. She was wearing a white frilly blouse underneath a green dress which had laces at the front like a corset. She looked like she had just stepped out of a Jane Austen novel.

Athos snorted for a moment but still found himself blushing when she looked over at him briefly and smiled. Porthos had obviously noticed his stare because he turned to look himself just as the woman walked around the tables towards the front door.

“What a weirdo,” he mumbled. Athos frowned, it was not polite to use the term ‘weirdo’ to describe a lady however unusually she was dressed. “She’s beautiful though,” Porthos added.

Athos nodded in agreement which was rather unlike him but he couldn’t deny it. Constance turned to look as well but seemed more confused. She twisted back and stared at the two men.

“Who is beautiful?”

“The lady who is leaving,” Athos explained.

“What lady?” Constance asked.

“The one opening the door, I thought she smiled at me but she can’t have,” Athos said again.

“There isn’t anyone by the door.”

Porthos scowled. “The blond. She has her hand on the door right now.”

They watched as she left and then both rotated back in their chairs to face the table again.

“Guys, there was no lady by the door,” Constance claimed. They both looked at her half-drunk wine glass for a moment and then at each other.

“She must have been…” Porthos started.

“A ghost!” Athos finished and jumped up from his chair, he raced across the pub towards the door to follow her. He swung the doors open and they slammed against the wall once he was outside. He knew that he could have just phased through but that took effort and he was too distracted. Outside he looked up and down the street but he couldn’t see her anywhere. She was gone. He growled at himself angrily. The first ghost he had ever come across and he just let her walk out. When he came back inside he saw Treville standing behind the bar drying an empty pint glass.

“I need to get those doors fixed,” he was telling an old man sitting on the stool. “The damn things keep on swinging open with the wind.” The old man grunted.


	7. Battle of the Somme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos discovers a new power and Aramis tells Porthos about the day he became a vampire.
> 
> [Hopefully my memory of GCSE history has served me well, if not I'm sorry for any mistakes]

Aramis was lying naked in the bed, his hand behind his head and the duvet up to his waist. Marsac was naked too but he was lying on his side, stroking Aramis’ arm with his finger slowly. Without glancing at him, Aramis knew that his maker wore a smile of satisfaction on his face. They were in a cheap hotel room, none of the furniture matched and the stench of smoke permeated the small confines, but at the time they had been in a hurry and hadn’t noticed. Not that it would have mattered.

Aramis had a queasy feeling in his stomach, not quite believing that he had done it again. Every time Marsac re-appeared they always ended up in bed together. Aramis never planned it and he always promised himself that it wouldn’t happen again but it always did. Was he really that easy to manipulate? Or was it something else? Marsac was like a drug.

“You’re not a human anymore, Aramis. You’re a vampire. Human-Aramis died and vampire-Aramis was born. You can’t turn back the clock,” Marsac was saying.

Aramis started to frown. He was already getting sick of the conversation because he felt like Marsac was never going to understand, however much he tried to explain it.

“I’m not trying to turn back the clock. I’m merely proving to myself that there is another way. We don’t have to kill. We can do the right thing.”

Marsac leaned forward and placed a tender kiss against Aramis’ shoulder. Then he sighed, laying his hand on the other vampire’s chest, twisting his finger around the chest hair he found there and resting his head down onto the pillow.

“Would you tell a shark to stop eating fish? Or a lion to stop hunting?”

With a turn of his head Aramis scowled. “We’re not animals. We can survive without killing, I’m living proof of that.”

“No,” Marsac shook his head, “you’re living proof of how hard it is. How much it goes against our very nature. Look at you today, you were sucking that blood off my tongue like your life depended on it.”

Aramis sighed, starting to feel defeated and looked back up at the ceiling again. Marsac was right. He felt like a failure, he’d let the others down. “I had a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.”

Marsac laughed softly. “Yes it will because you can’t go against the very core of who are you are.”

“How do you know who I am?!” Aramis shouted angrily, shoving Marsac off and sitting up to move away from him. He felt furious. “How do you know?” Flinging back the duvet, he quickly reached for his jeans; he had no-idea where his underwear was and he was too enraged to look. “Did you find out after you turned me and then left me with the pile of bodies at the Somme? Did you find out after you suddenly appeared during the 1950s expecting me to just forgive you, which I did, only for you to disappear again? Oh, wait, it must have been during the 70s that you found out who I was, those two whole days which you decided to spend time with me before you buggered off yet again! Wait, have I seen you since then? Probably but I can’t even remember. It was obviously such an important moment in my life that I’ve completely forgotten.”

Aramis stood up and pulled at his jeans, doing up the zip and flies. Then he went over to the TV and snatched his t-shirt from where it had landed earlier; with trembling hands, he managed to put it on. Marsac said nothing, he probably knew that he deserved every bit of anger.

After a moment and once Aramis had stopped ranting, Marsac sighed and sat himself up against the pillows. “I don’t do well in vampire covens, you know that. I make more enemies than friends. And you always fit in so well. I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“Oh…oh,” Aramis finished pulling down his top and then placed his hand over his heart as he turned to Marsac. “You’re so thoughtful and loving. I hadn’t realised that you constantly abandon me for my own benefit.”

Marsac shook his head. “It’s different now. You’re not in a coven anymore. We can really make a go of things this time. The two of us, friends again.”

Aramis stared him, utterly gobsmacked. “You can’t be serious?” he asked. Then, shaking his head he sat back down on the bed only to put his socks on. “I have friends now. Better friends than you ever were. Granted I don’t fuck those friends but that’s probably a good thing too.”

“Are they vampires?” Marsac asked curiously.

“It doesn’t matter what they are. They’re good for me. That’s all you need to know.”

“I’d like to meet them,” Marsac suddenly blurted out. “I mean…I really want to make the effort this time. I’m being serious, Aramis.” He crawled forward and grabbed hold of Aramis’ arm before the vampire had the chance to leave the bed again. “I’m tired, Aramis. I want to stop running. I want a home. I know it’s too late to help you. I had my chance to do that many times and I blew it. But you could help me?”

Aramis paused and turned to look at his maker. This made Marsac smile a little before suddenly looking very serious. “What if I said that I wanted to give up blood too? That I want whatever it is that you’ve found because you’re right, maybe there is another way. I’ve just never been determined to try before. Will you help me?”

“Are you…do you mean that?” Aramis asked, not sure if he should believe the words coming out of Marsac at all. He had been lied to far too many times by his maker. Abandoned by him too many times as well and, yet, if Marsac really wanted to stop that would change everything.

“Yes, I mean it. Please. Let me into your life again, at whatever distance you find comfortable. I’ll stay in this shitty hotel and go cold-turkey from here. I know it’s a lot to ask…”

Aramis nodded, he was excited about the sudden change of heart in his maker but he desperately tried not to show it. “It is a lot to ask but, if you’re truly being serious, it would be my honour to help you.”

Aramis allowed himself to smile and Marsac let go of his arm.

 

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It had been a good night which was evident by the fact Constance and Athos had to carry Porthos home. However, deciding that the big man was too heavy to drag up the stairs, Porthos was unceremoniously dumped onto the sofa.

It was from the sofa that he vaguely heard his name being called but he was too tired and his head hurt too much to do anything about it. He started falling back to sleep when heard his name again and suddenly there was a weight on his lap as someone straddled him and then sat down. The action made Porthos grumble but he was still too hung-over and too sleepy to really register what was going on. That was until he suddenly felt something very cold and very wet thrown at his face.

Gasping, Porthos sputtered awake with a growl and launched upward so mightily, Aramis was almost flung off his lap. In the end, the vampire managed to stay on, eyes wide and ready to explain himself.

“Don’t get mad!” Aramis said immediately and then he had a big smile on his face. The words made Porthos give a dismayed groan and he lowered his sore head back against the pile of cushions. “I have two pieces of good news and one piece of bad news,” the vampire continued. “Which would you like first?”

“Only the good news,” Porthos mumbled and closed his eyes, his head hurt very badly.

“Well...” Aramis thought for a moment. “Actually you need to hear the good news, then the bad news and then the good news, otherwise it doesn’t work.”

“Alright,” Porthos said with a sigh. He loved Aramis enough to try and pay attention, even if he had a killer hangover already. “Give me the shit sandwich.” He placed one hand on Aramis’ knee and flung his other arm over his eyes. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to the fact that having Aramis straddling his lap was somewhat enjoyable despite the circumstances.

“I found out some information about Athos’ ex-wife. The person I found out from was Marsac and Marsac wants to give up drinking blood!” Aramis was grinning even more by the end of it.

Porthos peered blearily out from beneath the arm covering his eyes. “You saw Marsac?” he asked. His head hurt all the more for hearing this news.

“Yes!” Aramis said, the smile only wavering slightly.

“And this would be the bloke that turned you into a vampire and then left you?”

“Yes,” Aramis repeated, his smile disappearing a little.

“The bloke who you say keeps coming back into your life and messing you around and then disappearing?”

“Yup.”

“The one you said was never going to change because he is, and I quote, a selfish prick who doesn’t have any balls to speak of?”

This time Aramis was so deflated that he didn’t even speak.

“You idiot, come here,” Porthos said, reaching out he wrapped his fingers around the back of the Aramis’ neck and pulled the vampire down to lie on top of him. Aramis went willingly, covering Porthos’ warm body with his own cold one. He rested his head on the large chest of the werewolf.

“He might be serious though,” Aramis whispered against the bare chest.

“Yeah and one day Athos is going to come down those stairs wearing a pink tutu singing If You Like Pina Coladas.”

“But what if he is serious?”

“He’s not,” Porthos said bluntly. He had wrapped his arms around Aramis and was holding him tightly but Aramis still managed to raise his head and look down at him.

“I have to try though. Even if I end up getting hurt, I’ll hate myself even more if I don’t try to help him.”

“Oh, Aramis,” Porthos sighed, looking at his friend who he loved so much. “Sometimes I wish that you were a cold-blooded bastard of a vampire-killer again. That way you wouldn’t keep listening to that big squishy dead heart of yours.”

That made Aramis smile. Or at least it was a half-smile. He rested his head back down onto Porthos’ chest. Porthos reached up and pushed his fingers into Aramis’ curls, stroking his hair slowly.

“What did you find out about Athos’ ex-wife?” Porthos asked.

“Oh, she is a witch. The most powerful witch in the whole of Europe. And, if she knew we were looking for her, she’d hunt us down first and murder us most brutally.”

“…that’s good news then,” Porthos mumbled.

They lay just like that, Porthos stroking Aramis hair gently, his head still pounding, sleep still tugging. He’d no idea when he had drifted back to sleep but he had, soundly and more content than he had a right to be.

The two of them woke up a few hours later with Aramis still on top of Porthos. When Porthos opened his eyes he felt confused for a moment. He surveyed the living-room and wondered how he’d got there and why Aramis was lying on him. Katy Perry was singing to him which meant that Aramis’ phone was ringing. The vampire lifted his head, his hair flat on the side which had been pressed against the chest of the werewolf. He groaned, wanting to reach his phone but still too half-asleep to move until…

“Shit!” Aramis screamed as Athos suddenly seemed to appear out of thin air right into the middle of the living-room. Porthos immediately groaned, the scream had really hurt his head.

Aramis pushed himself off Porthos and sat down onto the sofa beside the big man’s feet. “How did you…what did you…when did that start happening?”

Athos looked as confused as Aramis felt. “I….well it happened for the first time when we got back from the bar. I just wished myself into the bedroom and it happened. And now I just thought about being in this room…and it happened.”

Aramis sat there frozen for a while, staring at the ghost until he started nodding and smiling. “That’s seriously cool,” he said. Athos didn’t look as sure. “Now go teleport into the kitchen and make me a coffee.”

“Make your own coffee,” Athos said but walked into the kitchen anyway.

“Did you see that?” Aramis asked the werewolf and slapped him on the leg. “Athos can teleport. He’s a proper ghost now.”

“Who’s Athos?” Porthos said with a pained sigh; he had been watching it all but it made as much sense to him as it had to Aramis.

Chuckling, Aramis moved from the sofa to retrieve his phone from his jacket. He glanced at the name on the caller ID and groaned. “It’s d’Artagnan,” he said to Porthos as he came back over and sat back onto the sofa clutching his beloved phone. “He hasn’t stopped calling me the past few days.”

Porthos finally started sitting up. He ached all over and he wasn’t entirely sure if that was because of the amount of beer he had drunk the day before or the fact he had slept squashed under a vampire. Not that he was complaining about that one, not at all.

“Well you did say you’d investigate for him. The lad is obsessed. What are we going to tell him?”

Aramis sighed and sunk down into the sofa cushions. “I don’t know.”

They both had to abruptly finish that conversation as Athos reappeared. He had brought a cup of water with an aspirin fizzling away. He handed it to Porthos before going to sit on the armchair.

“I thought I might frequent The Garrison again today,” he said, staring out of the window and not looking at either of them. Aramis and Porthos sat there in silence for at least a minute before Aramis couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Wait, rewind. First I find out you’re a French, un-blue version of Nightcrawler and now you’re telling me that you actually willingly want to go out somewhere and be social?” He turned to look at Porthos in utter confusion. “What did you do to him yesterday?”

Porthos, with his water posed at his lips, smiled. “He saw another ghost,” he explained with a rather teasingly glance over at Athos before pouring some of the water down his throat.

“Oooh,” Aramis said, now intrigued. He turned back to Athos. “Well that’s a new development. Was she pretty?”

Porthos almost spat his drink out as he laughed, Athos glared at Aramis with a frown.

“What do her looks have to do with it? I want to know more about my…condition. Is it permanent? What other powers do I have that I don’t even know about? Why can some humans see me and others can’t? I have questions.”

Leaning forward a little Porthos whispered to Aramis, “She was very pretty.”

“Ghost sex, I wonder how that would work,” Aramis mused out loud.

“Why would it be different to any other sex?” Porthos asked. “If they’re both ghosts they can touch each other.”

“Yes,” Aramis agreed. “But what if they accidentally float through the bed? Or teleport into the bingo hall down the road?”

Porthos was laughing but Athos didn’t look as amused. In fact he stood and muttered something about ‘ridiculous levels of immaturity’ and left the room. Once he had gone the laughter died down and Aramis was looking at Porthos seriously for a moment.

“I was thinking that perhaps Marsac could…meet you? Perhaps I could invite him round here?”

Porthos immediately frowned. He wasn’t very interested in meeting Marsac and yet he had a feeling that it would be important to Aramis if he did. Also, that would mean he could keep an eye on the whole situation a little more.

“Aramis, tell me what happened when you were turned. I know you don’t like talking about it but, if you want me to meet your maker, I’d like to know the full story.”

Aramis sighed and turned away for a moment, obviously thinking about it. He had told Porthos parts but never the whole thing and Porthos had never asked before but he felt like it was time, especially if he was going to finally meet this guy.

“Back in my human days, like all Frenchmen, as soon as you turned 21 I enlisted into the French army; every one of us had to spend three years in active service. I’d only been out of the army for a couple of years when World War one broke out, then and I was automatically drafted back in, we all were. They trained me up to be a medic because I was good at stitches.

Marsac was in my division and we became good friends. We shared cigarettes and told stories of home. We were always looking out for each other and we survived many battles together.

Then, in the summer of 1916, we were sent to the Somme. It was meant to be a big French-led operation but we were being destroyed at Verdun so the British, Australians, Canadians and various others came to help. We fired artillery down on the German lines for days. The officers said it would weaken the Germans only it didn’t quite work. The Germans knew about the bombardment in advance and they were prepared for it. They made shelters and hid. As soon as it was over they knew the Allies were coming so they lined up their machine-guns. The barbed-wire hadn’t been destroyed and we’d made it worse for ourselves by creating giant craters in the ground.”

Aramis paused for a moment. Porthos leaned forward and held onto his hand but Aramis barely noticed, his mind was else-where, in the middle of the Somme perhaps?

“It was a blood-bath. We quickly heard that the Germans were just mowing the British down by the thousands but the British officers kept on ordering more soldiers over-the-top. They told them to walk slowly. I mean walk slowly…in lines…it was just target-practice for the Germans. Us French faired a little better. The Germans thought that we would be so weak because of Verdun that our attack from the south would barely register. But, because of our lack in numbers, we had the sense to send in small groups. But it was hell on earth, I can barely describe it.

I was stitching up faces, amputating dead limbs, patching up men the best I could. But they were dying, so many were dying and it went on for weeks. I spent weeks caked with blood and dirt. It was all over my hands and my uniform. Disease was rampant in the trenches and the stench of the rotting bodies is something I’ll never forget. Sometimes we just had to march over the dead and let them sink into the mud. We didn’t have the time or the energy to bury them all.

It was in late October when it had happened. I was out there in the battle when I found this kid…I mean he was a kid, Porthos. He must have lied about his age. He was sobbing for his mother as blood pumped out of two bullet holes in his chest. I was trying to put pressure on the wounds but they wouldn’t stop bleeding. I think I knew the second I saw him that he was going to die but I couldn’t just leave him there to die alone. So I stayed with him and that’s when it happened.”

Porthos felt Aramis hands start to tremble and he held them tighter, hoping his friend would register his presence. Hoping that it leant him strength to get through. Hoping that alone would be enough.

“I felt something hot hit me in the side. I didn’t even realise what it was at first until my stomach started going into spasms. I looked down, I had been shot. I tried to patch myself up but I must have passed out because the next thing I remember I’m looking up and Marsac is staring down at me, a look of terror on his face. I remember hearing shouting, screaming and gunfire from somewhere close by but all I could focus on was Marsac. He was trying to ask me something. I felt so dizzy and confused and in terrible pain. He kept on saying that he could help me but I had to ask him too. I didn’t understand what he was saying, why would I have to ask for him to help me? He said that he could make sure that I’d survive the war, but it would have to be what I wanted. I thought he was being weird so I just nodded. Of course I wanted to survive the damn war. Then his eyes changed, they went pitch black.

The next thing I remember is the silence. It was so quiet and peaceful. The guns had stopped, no-one was screaming in fear. There was no noise at all. For the first time in months, everything felt calm. I lifted my head and, at first, all I could see was snow. It looked beautiful as it floated down from the sky in delicate soft flakes and then settled on the ground like a carpet. That was until I realised that the ground was littered with bodies. Literally everywhere. Either side of me and underneath me. I was surrounded by frozen dead men. They thought I was dead and had thrown me into a mass grave.”

Aramis turned away from Porthos and pulled his hand from his grip. “I’d never felt more scared in my entire life.”

Porthos had been trying hard not to cry, even though he wanted too. He wanted to cry for young Aramis being so brave in that terrible battle only to have been abandoned. “Marsac left you to be thrown into a mass grave,” he growled, “and you forgive him for that?”

Now Aramis looked back to face his friend. “Do you know what happens when you don’t forgive? It doesn’t hurt the person that you’re angry with, it just eats you up inside. Marsac thought he was doing the right thing by saving my life. I would have stayed dead in that grave like all of those other men if he hadn’t.”

“I bet you want to kill him for it sometimes though, ay?”

Aramis smiled a little.“Oh I hit him every single time I see him. That makes me feel a little better.”

Porthos groaned for a moment and despite his better judgement he eventually said, “Invite Marsac to The Garrison tomorrow. We can meet him there.”

“Great!” Aramis said and then jumped up like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just told Porthos the story of the most traumatic experience of his entire life. “I’m going to get some food. Don’t invite Constance to the pub.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t guarantee that Marsac won’t try to kill her.”

Porthos sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Next chapter....Porthos' dislike of Marsac continues to grow and d'Artagnan is back!]


	8. He prefers sexy-man beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm sorry for the delay! I've been off traveling and work has just had my attention....as have other fics *coughs* Hopefully now I'm back into the swing of things.]

Aramis was very nervous. He had visited the rest-room twice, swapped places with Athos, changed his chair because the other one was wobbly and eaten two bags of cheese and onion crisps all in the space of thirty minutes.

Seeing his friend so out of sorts, Porthos longed to reach out and hold his hand in effort to calm him down, but he wasn’t sure how Aramis would react. Athos was of no use; he was too busy looking around, trying to see if the other ghost was going to turn up since she hadn’t appeared the day before.

“He’ll be here,” Porthos said reassuringly. It was clear that Marsac’s lack of punctuality was having an effect on Aramis; the vampire could not handle being abandoned by this man again. While Porthos had no desire to see Aramis hurt, he could not help the feeling that if Marsac never showed, it would be best. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself.

“I know,” Aramis agreed but his leg was bounced furiously, something he did when he was anxious. None of them spoke for the next few minutes until the pub door opened and Aramis suddenly darted out of his chair. “That’s him,” he said smiling radiantly.

Porthos felt his heart sink as Aramis waved Marsac over; if only that smile were directed toward him… Athos’ attention had returned and they all watched as Marsac’s bright blue eyes and handsome face lit up when they spotted Aramis.

“He’s here,” Aramis said, looking incredibly relieved as he sat back down onto his chair. Porthos just wanted to grab him and soothe him and…fucking Marsac. If Marsac was going to hurt Aramis again he’d...

“Hello,” came the genuinely friendly tone of the other vampire as he strolled over and sat down in the empty chair. Porthos did his best to smile, Athos was less friendly, he just stared. Marsac politely reached out his hand towards Porthos, obviously deciding that it was too early to be truly French and kiss cheeks. Porthos took the hand and shook it firmly.

“Porthos,” he said, trying to appear welcoming even though he didn’t feel that way underneath. Even Athos begrudgingly shook his hand and said his name.

Marsac looked from one to the other. “A werewolf and a ghost,” he said, his tone light and curious.  “Interesting.” He looked over at Aramis with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t call him a werewolf that’s racist,” Aramis pointed out. “He prefers sexy-man beast.” The in-joke made Porthos chuckle but Marsac didn’t seem to get it.

Aramis tapped at the arms of his chair before moving to get up. “Can I buy you a drink? I’ll buy everyone a drink. This round is on me.”

The vampire dashed off towards the bar, leaving the three of them alone together. They all started looking as uncomfortable as they felt.

“So…” Marsac was the first to speak. “Aramis said that you all live together?”

“Yes,” Porthos replied. He didn’t give Marsac anything more than that. Marsac looked even more uneasy with the awkward silence so he made another valiant attempt at conversation.

“That’s unusual. How did you all meet?”

“Aramis found me and we both found Athos,” Porthos said. Trying to give Marsac as little information about their lives as he could whilst also appearing polite.

“Aramis said that you are an old friend,” Athos offered. “And he was going to help you go ‘cold-turkey’?” he probed.

Marsac turned to Athos and nodded slowly.

“May I enquire as to just how long have you’ve been addicted?”

“Since I was first turned so that’s…” Marsac canted his head in thought before shaking his head. “That’s a very long time ago.”

“And now, suddenly, you want to stop?” Athos asked, his voice edged with suspicion. “For no apparent reason other than a change of heart?” He eyed Marsac up.

Porthos glanced at Athos, surprised and curious. He wasn’t quite sure why the ghost was suddenly so quite so abrupt but he was happy for it. These were the sort of questions he’d wanted to ask Marsac himself but hadn’t out of fear he’d upset Aramis. Perhaps Athos knew that so he was doing it on his behalf.

“It happens,” Marsac said, his expression and body language becoming a little less friendly and slightly more defensive as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

“No,” Athos said, slumping back into his seat. “I’m afraid I don’t believe it does.”

Porthos could tell that Marsac was about to say something but then he stopped himself. He glared instead and they all sat in silence for another couple of minutes until Aramis reappeared skillfully carrying four pints all pushed together. He put them down in the middle of the table and handed them all out until he passed one to Athos and immediately realised his mistake.

“Oh shit, sorry,” he said and pulled the pint away. Athos shrugged. He was used to that by now. His attention then went back to looking around the room again.

“So,” Aramis said as he sat back down and lifted up one of his pint glasses. “This is to Marsac. Forty-eight hours of being dry and counting.”

Marsac smiled and lifted his own glass, Porthos lifted his glass too but he couldn’t bring himself to smile. After drinking from this pint Aramis licked the froth off his lips.

“How does it feel?” he asked which made Marsac laugh.

“I have gone forty-eight hours before, Aramis. Many times. Even four or five days. I’ll tell you how it feels when we’re getting to weeks.”

Aramis nodded, understanding. “I know. I’m just proud of you. It’s the first step which is the hardest. Deciding that you want to do it.”

“Yes,” Marsac agreed and turned to look at Athos even though the ghost was ignoring him. “I agree.” His attention was soon back on Aramis. “So, you haven’t told me yet, what made you decided to give up?”

Aramis squirmed a little on his chair for a moment and Porthos wondered if he was even going to tell Marsac the story. He did glance around, probably to check for curious ears but the bar wasn’t very busy and the music was loud enough to cover their conversation. Still, just in case, he made sure that he kept his voice down.

“Well after I had to leave the coven, which is a story for another day, I was in a bad place. I was sleeping around and taking risks when it came to feeding. It’s amazing I wasn’t caught. Then I came across this one woman and it changed everything…”

“So it was because of a girl?” Marsac interrupted with a smile on his face. Aramis chuckled and shook his head.

“Not really, I mean yes but not in the way you think. I didn’t fall in love with her but she was different. I found myself developing an affection for her. She was the first human I’d cared about in a long time and I couldn’t kill her. When she accidentally found out what I was she didn’t run away or push me away. She took pity, so I asked her to help me. I begged her actually. And she did.”

Aramis was unaware that he suddenly had the attention of Athos as much as Marsac. Athos had never heard the full story before either.

“She helped me believe in myself again. She showed me that there was still good inside. Then I met Porthos, saved Porthos technically. After a bit of a turbulent friendship between the three of us for a couple of years they both staged an intervention three years ago and I’ve been clean ever since because, well, the thought of letting them down is enough to make me want to stay clean.”

Aramis looked down at his lap for a moment and then glanced over at Porthos who was looking back at him with a proud smile. Because he was proud of Aramis, very proud.  Aramis found himself returning the smile.

As the evening progressed it went pleasantly enough, although Porthos silently fumed as Marsac openly flirted with Aramis, reaching out to touch him whenever he had an excuse. At one point he even had his hand on Aramis’ leg as Aramis recounted a tale about his trip to Rome. Marsac was laughing as his fingers rubbed at the thigh.

When Porthos could no longer stand it, he excused himself and got up to use the bathroom. Standing at the urinal he was less than pleased when Marsac suddenly came in.

Marsac watched him and then snorted. “I always thought that dogs lifted a leg up. I guess that’s not always the case.”

“Excuse me?” Porthos asked, shaking himself and tucking everything back in. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had heard the comment right.

“I’m just saying, it’s good that you’re trained.”

“Trained?” Porthos felt angry. He was tempted to push the vampire up against the wall but somehow he managed to control himself, at least physically. “Marsac, I don’t know why you’re currently inserting yourself back into Aramis’ life but I can promise you, he has friends watching his back now. If you take even one single step out of line, you’ll have a werewolf hunting you down.”

Marsac smirked and moved towards Porthos, he was obviously not intimidated by the difference in size between the pair of them.

“Look, _dog_ , I’ve come back to claim what is mine. If you want to get in the way it’s your funeral.”

Porthos growled at Marsac but, suddenly, the door opened and a stranger came in. They both tried to look normal. In fact Marsac took the opportunity to walk past Porthos and disappear into the cubicle. Porthos decided to give up with him. He’d tell Aramis later and Aramis would be angry as well.

Only Aramis didn’t come home with them. He said that he was going to walk Marsac back to his hotel so Porthos sat at in the living-room fuming.

“I hate him,” Porthos said when Athos walked into the room and sat down in the armchair.

“I know,” Athos said calmly.

“I really fucking hate him,” Porthos added to emphasise his point.

“I know,” Athos repeated.

“Why can’t Aramis see what a bastard he is? Why doesn’t Aramis realise that he’s just using this giving up blood nonsense to win him over?”

Athos gave a little shrug, “They have history. A lot of history. It’s more complicated for Aramis.”

“Fuck their history. All their history proves is that Marsac does nothing but hurt him.”

“I know and you know, but I think Aramis needs to learn that for himself…again.”

“Aramis is a fucking idiot sometimes,” Porthos said, his bottom lip quivering. All this was terribly upsetting. He wanted to protect Aramis so badly that it hurt.

“Yes he’s an idiot,” Athos agreed. “But he’s our idiot and all we can do is be there for him when it all goes wrong.”

\----------------------------------------------

The following day Porthos hadn’t said anything to Aramis but he did managed to distract the vampire from helping Marsac long enough to remind him that they still had d’Artagnan to deal with. So Aramis called d’Artagnan up and they all arranged to meet in a quiet cafe. When the lad turned up the other two were shocked. He looked dirty, his white T-shirt covered in stains, his hair a greasy mess and he had two large black bags underneath his eyes.

“What happened to you?” Aramis asked automatically, not having a lot of tact.

“What do you mean?” d’Artagnan looked confused as he sat down in the booth opposite them in the café. “What have you found out?”

“Stuff,” Aramis said, his eyes were still full of concern. “My god you stink,” he said, suddenly catching a whiff. He received a kick in the shins from Porthos for that one.

“Look, I…” d’Artagnan placed his arms on the table and fiddled about with his fingers. “…my cousin kicked me out. He told me I had to get a job and pay money towards the rent but I told him that I couldn’t. I was too busy finding my father’s killer.”

Porthos, feeling sorry for the young guy, ordered him a large baguette which d’Artagnan devoured at the speed of someone who hadn’t eaten properly in a good long while.

“So you’ve been on the streets?” Porthos asked and d’Artagnan nodded, his mouth full of food. They both watched him eat until he licked his fingers clean, not wanting to miss a crumb.

“What did you find out?”

Aramis sighed, he hadn’t been looking forward to the conversation. “D’Artagnan, she’s a very very powerful woman. Even if you could track her down, which is unlikely, what are you planning to do? Force her to confess? Make a citizen’s arrest?”

“No, I’m going to kill her.”

“You can’t kill her,” Aramis pointed out with an exasperated sigh, doing his usual looking around to make sure that no-one was listening. It was becoming an unfortunately necessary habit of late. “You’re a puny human, she is not.”

D’Artagnan glanced down at himself and frowned. “I’m only puny because I haven’t eaten very much these past couple of weeks.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean she’s powerful, that’s what I found out. I know who she is, or at least by reputation. She isn’t the sort of person you want to mess with.”

“Athos married her,” d’Artagnan offered.

“I know,” Aramis snapped. “And he’s dead. So what does that tell you?”

“It tells me that she has messed up lots of people’s lives and you’re just asking me to forget about her?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”

D’Artagnan frowned, “I can’t, I won’t.”

“Oh my god!” Aramis exclaimed, getting frustrated that nothing was getting through. “If you go after her you will die. Does that make the point clear?”

Suddenly d’Artagnan went silent. He looked at Aramis for a while and then slowed lowered his head onto the table and into his folded arms which hid his face. Aramis looked confused. He wasn’t sure if the human was crying or tired or what was going on. He started doing wild hand-gestures at Porthos silently and mouthed ‘do something’. Porthos wasn’t sure what he could do until he realised that, actually, they could help the lad.

“Come and stay with us for a while. You don’t need to sleep on the streets.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Aramis whispered loudly to Porthos.

“We can’t let him sleep out in the rain, he’ll get beaten up or worse.”

D’Artagnan lifted his head and sighed deeply, rubbing at the side of his temple. “That’s very kind of you. It’ll only be for a couple of nights, just until I’m back on my feet again.”

Porthos smiled and nodded at the lad. He knew full well that it was going to take a long time for the obsessed young man to get back on his feet again but he was happy to help. Only was Aramis ready to live with a human? Porthos turned to look at the vampire, suddenly realising that Aramis’ protests were probably quite justified.

Aramis was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be thinking. “You can stay with us but there is one important stipulation…”

Porthos hoped that d’Artagnan would agree with whatever the stipulation was because, whatever Aramis was about to say, it was going to be very important. It was probably something which would keep d’Artagnan safe from being vampire food. Aramis leaned forward to look directly at the young man.

“…Saturday night is Doctor Who night. You must respect that.”

“I love Doctor Who!” d’Artagnan grinned.

This made Aramis smile too as he sat back. “We’re going to get on very well.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Is this normal?” Marsac asked as he lay curled up on the hotel room bed shivering. He had been shivering for hours. At first it was just fits of shivers but now it wouldn’t stop. He had also started to ache, all of his muscles felt like heavy lead weights and his organs felt like they were dissolving inside his stomach.

“Yes,” Aramis said tenderly, filling the glass up with more water from the jug and going back over to the bed. “This is very normal.”

Aramis held the glass out but a hand swatted it away furiously.

“I don’t want that!” Marsac snapped, then immediately looked guilty and he tucked his arm back underneath his chest. “Sorry. I just don’t want water.”

“I know,” Aramis said with a tender tone to his voice. He put the glass down on the bedside table just in case Marsac would change his mind later. He understood, all too well. “You want blood.”

Marsac nodded furiously. His bare chest was covered with sweat even though he was shivering. Aramis remembered the shakes and the fever. He remembered all of it, even though it had been three years since he had gone through what Marsac was experiencing.

“I could tie you up?” Aramis offered. “That’s what they did to me during the initial first weeks before I went to rehab.”

With a snort Marsac declined the offer. “I know you’re into some kinky stuff, Aramis, but now really isn’t the time.”

Aramis chuckled, smiling fondly down at his maker. “I know a wonderful rehab centre,” he then said, trying to remain cheerful and positive. “You could check yourself in. They make you paint your feelings, do some gluing and sticking and you can go to group therapy where you can listen to other people ramble on about their sad upbringing.”

Marsac started laughing and Aramis joined in. It did sound rather ridiculous when he said it out loud but, actually, he had found rehab helpful, not that he’d ever admit that to the others.  He knew that Marsac wouldn’t go for the idea though.

“I don’t think any therapist is ready to hear what I’d have to say,” Marsac muttered. “There is one thing which would help though…”

“Name it.” Aramis reached out and placed his hand on the shoulder of his maker. “What is it?”

After a bit of a pause as Marsac seemingly building up the courage to ask, finally he managed to. “I can’t stand being stuck in in this place. It’s so hard whenever you leave me here. I just get this huge urge to kill that hotel receptionist with the annoying voice. Perhaps I could stay with you? Just until this difficult period is over.”

“Marsac,” Aramis sighed and removed his hand from the shoulder. He broke the gaze for a moment. “It’s never over. You’ll get through this cold-turkey stage but it’s never over. You’ll have to fight against your urges every single day.”

“I know,” Marsac nodded slowly against the pillow. “I know I will. But this part is the hardest part. I think it would just be easier for me to get through it if I was around you all of the time. You could tie me up at your house?”

Aramis didn’t look wildly enthusiastic about the idea. In fact he stood up and moved away from the bed, over to where his jacket was hanging on the coat-rack by the door. He took out the mobile from his pocket to check his messages. He didn’t have any.

“Look, if it’ll be an issue then…” Marsac began. Aramis let out a sigh which seemed to stop Marsac mid-sentence. Aramis and his willingness to always help those in need had always been a weakness in him. At least vampires considered it to be a weakness.

“No,” Aramis said before Marsac could say anything further. “I’d just have to check with the others. We have someone else staying with us for a while and he’s in the only spare room. Perhaps I could stay here with you? I’ll think about it, okay?”

Marsac nodded. He seemed happy that the seed had been planted. When Aramis came back to the bed Marsac grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Next up...Constance finds herself alone with Marsac and Athos finally meets the ghost.]


	9. So you're the housekeeper?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos finally meets the ghost and is shown a new trick whilst Marsac pays Constance a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [OOC note - I'm sorry about the delay!! I've been distracted writing my other fic and reading fics, which is a good excuse I think. But I had a burst of excitement over this one the other day and wrote another 3-4 chapters for it so watch out for further chapters soon.
> 
> And I'm also sorry because I didn't quite mean for it to be such a slow-burn when it comes to the relationships forming but it just seems to be happening that way. I can promise that some of them will get together soon...although it might not be the couples you expect first ;)
> 
> Please excuse any mistakes, this hasn't been beta-read.]

The couple of days soon turned into a couple of weeks but no-one seemed to mind. D’Artagnan quickly proved himself to be quite a lovely housemate. It didn’t take him long to unknowingly knock Athos off the top spot and became Constance’ favourite, which made Athos frown a little more than usual.

D’Artagnan was polite, tidy and, as it turned out, he knew how to cook. The lad had even amazingly convinced Aramis to forget about Tuesday Chinese takeaway night and he cooked them all a home-made stir-fry instead. However, his obsession about finding Milady hadn’t dwindled and every moment he had Porthos or Aramis alone he’d go on about it. He kept on asking them if they were going to talk to Athos and they continued to attempt to avoid the topic because the right moment hadn’t come up yet. But they both knew that they were just delaying the inevitable and, if they didn’t do it soon, d’Artagnan would talk to Athos himself which would be a disaster for all of them.

Aramis and Porthos finally promised that they’d talk to Athos about his ex-wife as soon as they were both back from their night shift at the hospital on one condition, d’Artagnan would have to start looking for a job. If d’Artagnan was going to continue living in the house, he’d have to at least pay something towards the bills. They were hoping that d’Artagnan finding a job might distract the young man a little even though they both knew that his cousin had already tried such a trick.

However, whilst Athos sat at The Garrison waiting to see if the ghost would appear, d’Artagnan was pestering Treville about a job. Treville eyed him up wearily but, as it turned out, he was looking for a part-time barman and decided to give d’Artagnan a try. So, with d’Artagnan happily learning how to serve customers and doing an utterly useless job at remembering orders, Athos continued to wait.  

“That bloody door,” he heard Treville mumble at one stage which immediately made Athos turn around and there she was, standing right in the door-way. The angel in the green dress. He was so shocked for a moment that she had finally re-appeared after all of this time that he almost forgot to move but he needn’t have worried, she was beckoning him over with a finger.

He slipped off his stool and followed her to a booth in the corner of the room where she slipped onto a seat. He joined her, sitting opposite. Now that he was right in front of her he found himself unable to speak.

“Are you going to sit there looking vacant or are you going to ask me all of the questions I know you must have?” she asked with a warm smile.

Athos cleared his throat, suddenly aware that he had indeed been staring. Yet she was so beautiful that he found himself unable to do anything but stare.

“I have…many questions…” he began.

“I know and I’m here to help, so allow me to do just that. Where would you like to start?”

Athos thought for a moment and then asked the most pressing question which he had. “Why am I here? Why haven’t I passed onto the other side?”

“Because it isn’t your time yet. You are between the two worlds because you have unfinished business.” There was a moment of silence between the two of them. “Do you know what that might be?” she asked, obviously curious.

Athos nodded but didn’t give her any more than that. He still had a lot of other questions.

“Why can a couple of humans see me and touch me, whilst others can’t?”

She smiled at that one. “A strong emotional connection can sometimes make you visible to someone. So, for example, love, hate, anger and other strong feelings between two people. Your young man at the bar can see you because you two are connected through death. Constance can see you because she is connected to you through love.”

Athos looked startled at the answer although the answer made sense but how did she know about d’Artagnan and Constance? As if reading his mind she smiled at him.

“I’ve been watching you, Athos. Keeping an eye on you. I don’t say that to scare you, it’s my job. I'm a helper. I help those, like yourself, who haven’t passed through yet.”

“And how will I ‘pass through’?” Athos asked curiously.

“There will be a door. You’ll know it when you see it. Don’t worry about that yet. It will happen when it’s meant to happen.”

“My powers…” Athos began, still adamant that he was going to gather as much information from this ghost as he could. “…I keep discovering new ones. Are there more?”

She chuckled and nodded, her eyes lighting up at the question. “Many. Some are quite good fun. I could teach you, if you like?”

Athos liked the sound of that. In fact he liked the thought of being taught anything by her. Yet he had one final question which he was determined to ask before they went any further.

“My apologies for being rude, I have yet to enquire your name?”

“Ninon De Larrque and I have been dead for a very long time.”

\------------------------------------

There was a knock at the front door. It was unusual to get visitors but Constance pulled off her marigold gloves and left them by the sink. The others were all out as far as she knew. In fact it was about time she went home to bed herself. When she opened the door she was greeted by an unfamiliar face. Bright blue eyes peeked out at her from a very pale and sweaty face.

“Hello? Can I help you?” She asked, hand firmly attached to the door just in case. The man looked confused at seeing her.

“Sorry, perhaps I have the wrong house,” he muttered, glancing behind him at the street as if to check he was in the right place. Then he turned back to her. “I was looking for Aramis.”

“He lives here but he’s not in,” she informed the stranger, very wary of his presence. “He’s at work.”

“Ah!” The baffled expression disappeared from the man’s face and he started to look a little more relaxed. “Of course, I apologise. I must have been confused about his shifts. My name is Marsac. I’m a friend of Aramis.”

He extended his hand out to Constance who knew the name immediately. Marsac was the one who turned Aramis into a vampire. His maker. She was also aware that Aramis had been spending a lot of time with him recently because Marsac was giving up blood. Constance admired him for that and it also explained the sweating. She took his hand and shook it briefly, trying to be polite.

“He’ll be back in the morning. You can return then,” she said and moved to close the door but a boot suddenly appeared and stopped the door from shutting.

“Sorry,” he said, immediately being apologetic. “But I’ve come such a long way. I don’t suppose Porthos is in? Or Athos?”

Without thinking she shook her head. “No. Porthos is at work too and Athos is out.”

She was too busy looking at his foot to notice the slight smirk which was playing on his lips.

“Nevermind then. Wasted journey. I’ll just find a late-night café and get myself a hot chocolate before I head home.”

He slowly started to remove his foot and suddenly she felt bad. The poor man had probably wanted a bit of support, an ear to listen. She couldn’t just turf him back out onto the street. She had helped Aramis during this time after all, she could spare five minutes for his maker.

“I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?” she offered.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“What taste do you miss the most?” Ninon asked, already starting their first lesson right there in The Garrison. The answer to that question was simple for Athos.

“Wine.”

Ninon chuckled, Athos wasn’t sure why. “Well, that one is easy. Come here.”

She grabbed Athos by the wrist and tugged him out of the chair. Then, with a hint of delight in her step, she guided him over to the bar and moved behind it where d’Artagnan was happily chatting away to one of the old regulars who was sitting there and politely indulging the over-talkative bartender.

“Ask your friend to have a sip of wine,” Ninon explained as she moved to stand on the other side of d’Artagnan.

Athos felt embarrassed for a moment, worried about being on show behind the bar. Then he reminded himself that he was a ghost and no-one apart from Ninon and d’Artagnan could even see him. He obviously spent too much time thinking because Ninon was frowning at him from the other side.

“He can’t hear me. You have to ask him.”

Deciding that life…or indeed death was too short to not experience new sensations he cleared his throat until d’Artagnan turned his head as if he hadn’t realised he was there before. D’Artagnan immediately smiled and opened his mouth to speak. Then suddenly, remembering he’d look crazy if he spoke to thin air, he closed his mouth again.

“Can you take a sip of wine?” Athos asked, trying to make it sound like the request wasn’t unusual.

“I’m working,” d’Artagnan whispered out of the side of his mouth.

Athos looked over at Ninon and realised that d’Artagnan had a point, he couldn’t drink whilst he was trying to impress Treville. However, Ninon didn’t seem to accept that as a valid answer and immediately told Athos to insist to d’Artagnan that sampling the different wines would only help him be a better bartender.

Somewhat concerned about where this was leading, Athos’ curiosity got the better of him and he relayed the suggestion to d’Artagnan who obviously thought about it and then shrugged, pouring himself half a glass from one of the wine bottles on the shelf behind the bar. Athos felt a tiny bit guilty for manipulating the poor lad but thankfully Treville wasn’t even around.

“You need to place your hands either side of his head,” Ninon insisted. “It will feel strange at first, like a tingle. You have to concentrate.”

Athos followed her instructions, standing behind the d’Artagnan he reached out and placed his hands either side of d’Artagnan’s head and felt the hair and skin beneath his fingertips.

“What are you doing?” d’Artagnan asked, suddenly not so bothered about talking to a ghost.

“Trust me,” Athos whispered although he suddenly wasn’t entirely sure he trusted himself, or Ninon. Still, he was doing it now so he might as well continue. 

“Close your eyes,” Ninon suggested and Athos did just that. “Let your body relax and just feel that tingle in your fingertips. Be patient and keep still. Concentrate on your hands, they’ll start to feel warm. Is it working?”

“Yes,” Athos whispered. His hands were starting to heat up in a way that wasn’t unpleasant.

“You have a connection. Now, empty your mind of everything apart from my voice. Ignore the music and the laughter. Just listen to my voice and do what I say. Ignore the feeling of his skin, focus on what he’s doing. Can you feel a glass in your hand? Cool on your fingers. Can you feel the weight of it? The smoothness?”

Athos nodded, even though he had his eyes closed, because he could. It felt like he was holding a wine glass. It was heavy and cold against his finger-tips.

“Wait for it. Don’t lose the connection,” Ninon said and Athos patiently waited for whatever ‘it’ was. He felt the head move beneath his hands slightly but he didn’t let go.

“Ask him to drink.”

So, Athos did and d’Artagnan did what he was told. Suddenly something was touching Athos’ lips and liquid was going into his mouth. His taste buds felt alive and it tasted so sweet. The plum and the cranberry, the smell of rose. He gasped as it went down the back of his throat. Then he tore his hands away and opened his eyes, the look of awe on his face. Ninon smiled at him, her eyes full of delight.

“Did you taste it?” she asked.

He nodded. “I felt it going down the back of my throat,” he admitted.

“It’s fun, right?” she smiled so hard that it made her nose crinkle. Athos thought that it was adorable but he was distracted by d’Artagnan suddenly gasping and shoving the wine glass beneath the bar as Treville returned.

“Well, my bar still seems to be in one piece which means you managed to watch things whilst I popped out. So, you’ve got the job.”

“Really? You mean it? ” d’Artagnan was asking frantically, clearly delighted about the offer.

“Yes,” Treville nodded. “I mean you’ve got a lot to learn but you have enthusiasm so we can work on the rest of it.”

D’Artagnan almost squealed and went to hug Athos but then paused, walked past Athos and hugged Treville instead.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

“So you’re the…housekeeper?” Marsac asked as he sat at the kitchen table. He didn’t want to be offensive but he couldn’t quite understand why there was a human woman tidying up the kitchen apart from the obvious.

“More like unpaid slave,” Constance told him but there was no malice in her voice. She stirred the two mugs of hot chocolate.

Marsac didn’t really understand the situation but he asked no further questions, just waited for the drink to be offered to him which he accepted graciously.

“You can’t stay here for long,” Constance warned. “It’s best that you stay away from humans for a while really. I remember all this with Aramis. We had to tie him up at one stage and he was swearing and cursing like a sailor. I didn’t even know so many bad words existed!”

“I see,” Marsac said, holding the hot mug in his hands. Now it made sense as he remembered the story Aramis had told them down at The Garrison. “You’re the person who helped him?”

Constance wasn’t really sure what that meant and she gave a little shrug. “I suppose. Porthos and I helped him but it was Aramis who did it. None of it would have mattered if Aramis didn’t have the will-power to change. You know it’s great that you’re giving up blood as well. Aramis will be so happy. He doesn’t have any vampire friends anymore. Different lifestyles and all that.”

“I suppose that’s why he shacked up with a werewolf and a ghost?” Marsac mumbled, taking a sip of his drink. Constance looked a little put-out by the statement but she remained friendly never-the-less.

“They’re all very good for each other. It’s an odd situation but it works for them,” she informed Marsac. Wanting to make sure that she was very clear about that one.

Marsac smiled weakly and sat himself up in the chair a little. “Are they in love?”

The question shocked Constance. She was starting to get a very odd feeling about this vampire and it was making her a little wary. Still, he was Aramis’ maker and she had to be polite.

“You’ll have to ask them.”

“Well they’re not here to ask, are they? So I’m asking you.”

Constance froze for a moment, not liking his tone of voice at all. In fact she was starting to feel even more uncomfortable so she got up and started drying off the washing-up just to put some distance between them.

“They are all very fond of each other,” she said, trying to be diplomatic. “Aramis and Porthos are especially close and I think Aramis has a crush on Athos. But you really will have to ask them. I’m not one for gossip. At least…well…” She stopped what she was about to say because the truth was she loved gossip.

She risked a quick glance at Marsac who was still sitting on the table but he looked lost in his thoughts. In fact, he looked a little bit angry, she could see it in his eyes. She turned away again and started placing plates back into the cupboard. She closed the cupboard door and saw something over her shoulder, she jumped when she turned to find Marsac standing right there, literally a metre away from her. It made her squeak and she immediately covered her mouth feeling embarrassed.

“Sorry, I didn‘t mean to startle you,” Marsac said and sounded like he meant it. Constance blushed and brush it away.

“Don’t worry. I’m still not used to vampires and ghosts sneaking up on me.”

“Please tell me something,” Marsac said, taking a step towards Constance, she immediately took a step back but that meant she was up against the sideboard. She suddenly felt frightened. “…does Aramis have feelings for Porthos?”

Constance panicked. She wasn’t sure if she should scream or try to run away but he hadn’t done anything yet. Perhaps she was getting flustered over nothing. She just needed to be polite and answer the questions, then he’d go away.

“I…I think so,” she stuttered. “But he won’t even admit that to himself, let alone tell Porthos.”

The words made Marsac flinch like he had put his hand onto a hot stove. Constance assumed that she had given him the wrong answer, something he didn’t want to hear. She wondered if she could take it back.

“I mean I don’t know you’ll really have to ask…”

Suddenly fingers were around her neck, pressing tightly. She felt terrified. She could barely breathe and he was lifting her off the ground.

“He needs to love me, do you understand?” Marsac was babbling. “He needs to love me.  Not some dog. I will make their lives hell, tear them apart. And Aramis will come to me for comfort when this perfect life you have all created lies in ruins.”

“You’re…hurting…me,” she managed to choke out, fingers scratching at Marsac’s hand trying to get him to remove his firm grip from her neck. Yet he didn’t, he continued his hold as the blackness seeped into his eyes and his fangs came out. She tried to scream but she couldn’t make a noise, she felt dizzy until there was a crash and the grip loosened.

She fell to the ground in a crumbled heap when Marsac let go. Frightened she scrambled to her feet and ran to the other side of the kitchen. D’Artagnan was standing there with the leg of a wooden chair still in his hand. The rest of the chair lay in pieces on the kitchen floor where d’Artagnan had smashed it against Marsac. The vampire was groaning on the vinyl floor tiles and starting to move.

“Come on!” Constance screamed and ran for d’Artagnan, grabbing him by the hand she dragged him out of the kitchen and out of the house. She didn’t stop running until they were both down the other end of the street and hiding around the corner. Then she let go of d’Artagnan and panted, her rescuer was doing the same.

“Was that vampire trying to kill you?!” d’Artagnan asked as he tried to get his breath. Constance nodded frantically.

“He certainly seemed to be! We need to find the others. We have to tell them. Let’s go to the hospital.”

“Athos is in The Garrison,” d’Artagnan pointed out. They were standing literally across the road from the bar. Constance nodded. Athos might be a ghost but he made Constance feel safe.

They managed to find Athos easily enough. He was sitting at a table talking to himself. Constance was confused for a moment but then just signalled him away and told him what had happened. Athos looked furious. He ordered them to stay in the bar and immediately went back to the house but found no sign of Marsac. The vampire had left.

Between the two of them they managed to talk Constance into going back into the house and, from there, they tried calling Aramis and Porthos. The latter answered his phone and, without knowing any details apart from the fact Constance had been attacked, he told them he’d be straight home.

In the living-room d’Artagnan was sitting with Constance, a comforting arm around her shoulders. Athos was sitting in the arm-chair watching them both.

“Are you sure you don’t want another cup of tea?” d’Artagnan asked. He didn’t have a lot of experience with crying women so he didn’t know what to do but he did know that Constance liked tea. She smiled through the tears but shook her head.

“Biscuits?”

“I’m fine, but thank you.” She gave d’Artagnan’s hand a squeeze. “My hero.”

D’Artagnan smiled proudly and turned to look over at Athos. “On the same evening I was offered a job and I saved Constance from death. Not such a bad day, huh?”

“You were very brave,” Athos said but he looked pretty emotionless sitting on the chair, watching them both. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and both Aramis and Porthos came back into the house. They both immediately went over to Constance and got down onto the carpet in front of her.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Aramis asked, gripping onto her hand and giving it a squeeze. She looked at Aramis for a while. She knew this was going to upset him deeply. She wasn’t sure what he’d do to Marsac if she told him so she hesitated for so long that d’Artagnan managed to speak first.

“There was a vampire in the kitchen and he tried to kill her.”

Aramis turned his head to look at the human-boy with a baffled expression on his face. That one statement could mean a million things.

“What? What vampire?”

“Marsac,” came a voice from another part of the room. Aramis turned again and noticed that Athos was sitting there watching.

Porthos immediately felt his blood boiling. “That bastard,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Aramis looked more shocked than angry. “Why was he here?” he asked, his attention back on Constance.

“He came to see you. I told him that you weren’t here and then felt bad about turning him away so I invited him in. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me, I know that now.”

Aramis shook his head and got to his feet. Porthos stayed patting her leg.

“Not stupid at all,” Porthos said, trying to make her feel better. “You’re too trusting for your own good but that’s what we all love about you.”

“How did he attack you exactly?” Aramis asked, now standing in the middle of the living-room and running his fingers through his hair. “I mean, did he try and drink your blood? Hit you? What exactly did he do?”

“Does it matter?” Porthos snarled. “He hurt her.”

“I know, I just…I need the details.”

Constance sniffed and sat up a little, telling herself not to be a baby. She was alive after all. “I made him a cup of hot chocolate and then he just suddenly got all upset because I said that you and Porthos were close. The next thing I know he has his hand around my throat and his teeth out…”

“So he didn’t actually bite you?” Aramis asked.

“No, because I came in and hit him over the head with a chair,” D’Artagnan pointed out.

“Right,” Aramis started processing the information. “But he might have stopped himself. We’ll never know. He has been trying really hard. There will be the occasional slip-up.”

“Are you kidding me?” Porthos said and stood up to look at the vampire. “He comes into our house, attacks Constance and you call that a ‘slip-up’?”

“I’m just saying…” Aramis looked like he was clutching at straws and he felt like he was as well. But he needed to because he wanted to believe in Marsac so badly. “…that he didn’t actually hurt her.”

“He had his hand around her fucking throat!” Porthos yelled which made Constance flinch. D’Artagnan noticed and put his arm around her even tighter.

“I’ll talk to him. Get him to apologise.”

Aramis suddenly felt someone grabbing his shoulder but it wasn’t Porthos, it was someone else. The next thing he knew he was being pinned against the flowery wallpaper by a ghost. Athos pressed his face so close to Aramis’ that the vampire could feel a chill.

“That vampire will not go within a hundred metres of Constance. Not to apologise and not for any reason. Do you understand me?”

Aramis, shocked that it was Athos shoving him against the wall, started nodding. He did understand, very much. Athos seemed to search his eyes for a while as if he was trying to see if Aramis was being genuine. Then he slowly let go of Aramis’ jacket.

“I’m sorry, Constance,” the vampire said, pulling down his jacket to straight it up. “This is my fault.”

Constance opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t true but Aramis was disappearing from the room before she had the chance. Porthos had moved to stop him but Aramis went upstairs which made Porthos worry less than if he’d gone outside.

“Where did that come from?” Porthos asked Athos, the ghost still breathing heavily in anger.

“Someone has to take charge around here,” Athos muttered.

Porthos shrugged. “If you want that role, it’s yours.”

Upstairs in his bedroom Aramis listened to the voices for a while. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but he was starting to feel bad. He should be down there comforting Constance. Comforting the person who had been there for him over the past five years and yet he found his thoughts on his maker. Wondering what had happened, wondering if Marsac needed him. The others didn’t understand what it was like giving up blood, only Aramis did. He knew the battle that Marsac was fighting within his own mind. He had to find him. Aramis quietly opened up his bedroom window and climbed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Next chapter - Time for the showdown...]


	10. You fell off the wagon then?

Aramis was expecting the night receptionist to be sitting behind the desk chewing gum and speaking in that annoying voice when he got to the hotel however, instead, the reception desk was empty. In most crappy hotels he wouldn’t have expected night service but it was a little odd considering the woman always seemed to be there whenever he had visited before. But he didn’t think much more of it, his main focus was on finding Marsac. He wasn’t really expecting him to be in the hotel room but it was the place worth checking first.

When he got to the right floor and the right room he was surprised to pick up a scent. It certainly smelt like Marsac. Aramis suddenly realised that he was actually going to have to confront his maker earlier than he had planned. He wasn’t even sure what he would say. He would have to make Marsac realise that he had properly messed up by hurting Constance and he was very disappointed. Yes, disappointed was always a good word.

Aramis knocked on the door and waited for an answer. What he found took him by the surprise. The door opened and Marsac was there with a huge grin on his face, blood dripping from his fangs and down over his chin. Aramis was so shocked that he froze until Marsac grabbed his shirt and tugged him into the room.

The smell of blood was overwhelming. Aramis felt his cravings kick in immediately. His knees became weak as he surveyed the carnage of the room. The receptionist was lying right there on the bed, undressed down to her underwear and covered in blood. The skin from her throat had been ripped away.

“What have you done?” Aramis gasped as he took in the scene.

“I’m sorry about this, my love,” were the words he heard before something hard hit him around the back of the head and everything went dark.

\---------------------------------------

Porthos was asleep in bed when he heard his phone buzzing. He had forgotten to turn it off. He groaned but, as it had woken him up and curiosity about who was texting him in the middle of the night got the better of him, he had a look. The message was from Aramis.

_‘Meet me @ the garrison ASAP Don’t tell others, need help!’_

Porthos immediately sat up. Why wasn’t Aramis in his room? He pulled back the covers and darted out of his bed, marched down the corridor and swung open the door of Aramis’ bedroom. The room was empty and a breeze was blowing the curtains drawing his attention to the fact the window was open.

“What have you done?” Porthos asked the empty room with a sigh. He felt like an idiot for not checking on his friend before he’d gone to sleep. They had all assumed that Aramis would come out when he felt ready.

Going back into his own bedroom Porthos quickly got dressed in navy jeans, black boots and a warm black hoodie. Then he tip-toed out of the house and walked down the dark street towards the bar.

It was the early hours of the morning so The Garrison was closed. Porthos wasn’t sure if he should wait outside but then he heard the squeaking of a side-door which had obviously been left open and was blowing about in the wind.

He went inside only to discover that all of the lights were out and he had no-idea where the switches were. It was dark but he could just about make out objects thanks to the moon-light. Moon-light, it would be a full-moon soon.

“Aramis?” he called, walking into the main bar area. It seemed so empty when no-one else was there, eerie almost. He walked around and heard only the noise of his own foot-steps. Eventually he perched up on a bar-stool and waited. He checked his phone again to make sure that Aramis hadn’t sent another message, then he heard a voice coming from somewhere in the shadows and suddenly got a whiff of a familiar and very unpleasant scent.

“Well, well, I wasn’t sure if you’d actually be stupid enough to come,” the voice of Marsac drifted across the bar. Porthos’ head darted up and he looked around but he couldn’t see anyone. His senses were confusing him.

“I hope you’re also stupid enough to have come alone,” said the voice. Porthos slid off the barstool.

“What do you want, Marsac?” he asked, puffing out his chest and trying to show that he wasn’t scared or intimidated. Even though, on the inside, he was deeply concerned as to why Marsac had turned up instead of Aramis.

“I want you, clearly, that’s why I’m here,” Marsac stated, finally appearing from behind a pillar. There were dark liquid stains all over the shirt and his chin as well. It didn’t take Porthos long to realise what it was.

“You fell off the wagon then?” he grunted.

“Fell off? More like…jumped off.” Marsac licked some blood off one of his fingers and smiled at the werewolf. “I decided that it wasn’t for me.”

“How surprising,” Porthos said, not sounding very serious. He stayed beside the bar, watching the vampire slowly walk around, wondering what his play was.

“Why change the habit of a life-time? Speaking of which, I don’t like werewolves. I never have. Not since I fought in a battle against werewolves and witnessed them ripping the heads right off my friends.”

Porthos didn’t know what to say at first. He knew a little of the history between vampires and werewolves but always thought it was racist nonsense. He’d never consider killing Aramis…or at least he didn’t most of the time.

“I’m sorry about your friends but I’m pretty sure that you must realise I haven’t been in any battles. Don’t go painting us all with the same brush.”

“Why not? You’d kill me if you had have the chance. You want to kill me right now,” Marsac accused.

Porthos glared at the vampire, still keeping a very close eye on his body-language. “I want you gone. That’s different to wanting you dead. I know you’re going to hurt Aramis again and I want to protect him from that.”

“And why do you think I’m going to hurt Aramis?”

“Because you always do,” Porthos pointed out.

“I LOVE Aramis!” Marsac suddenly yelled. He reached for someone which was down the back of his trousers and he pulled it out. It was a black pistol. It made Porthos freeze suddenly. Now it was serious.

“I’m sure you do,” Porthos said, trying not to make any sudden movements. He wasn’t aware of all the ways in which a werewolf could be killed and he had no desire to experiment.

“No, you don’t understand. When I had that phone-call and I knew that it would be different this time. When I found out he wasn’t part of the coven anymore, I knew this was it, I could finally be with him. Me and him. The way it was always meant to be.”

His hand was shaking as he spoke. Porthos listened to it all. He wasn’t sure what to do, to agree? To argue? He needed to calm the man down, the fruitcake vampire was holding a gun after all and it was pointed right at his head.

“Doesn’t Aramis get a say in this?” was the only thing he managed to come up with, partly because he was wondering where Aramis was and why Marsac had his phone.

“Aramis wants to be free. You’ve all been holding him back, you’ve changed who he is. You’ve trapped him.”

The gun be damned, Porthos was starting to feel angry. How dare Marsac say such things! Without even thinking he took a step towards the vampire. “Trapped him? No, Marsac, you’ve got it all wrong. We didn’t trap him, we set him free. His addiction doesn’t rule his life anymore. He finally has control over what was really trapping him. When you turned him you made him a slave to blood. He isn’t a slave to it anymore.”

“He’s a vampire! You can’t force him to be something he isn’t. He isn’t human!”

“No he isn’t human,” Porthos agreed. “But that doesn’t mean he has to be a murderer. If you were around you would know how killing was eating him up inside. He was a shell when I met him. A lost soul caught up in a whole world of pain and death. Every person he had killed was weighing on him like a life-sentence. He hated himself. Giving up blood doesn’t take away his guilt but it stops him from adding to it. Can’t you bloody see that?”

“No,” Marsac was still holding the gun up and aiming it at the werewolf. His fingers was starting to squeeze the trigger. “All I see is a werewolf who has brainwashed him and I need to put an end to this, for Aramis.”

Porthos tensed, waiting for the bullet. Instead the sudden noise of glass smashing caught his attention. Porthos turned to see bottles of alcohol flying off the shelves and crashing against the bar.

“What the?!”

The bizarre display distracted Marsac as well and he momentarily looked alarmed. Then, as the vampire regained his senses, he ignored the bottles flying around and focused on his mission once more.

“Goodbye, dog,” he said and Porthos tried to dive out of the way, his hip immediately crashing into a bar-stool as he flung himself to the side . Only, instead of a gunshot, Marsac suddenly froze and something appeared from his chest. A point of a wooden stake was protruding out covered in blood. His hand shook for a second and then it lowered unexpectedly, dropping the gun to the floor. Marsac fell forward onto his knees to reveal someone standing behind him…Aramis.

Porthos gasped seeing his friend who was staring down at Marsac. Suddenly Aramis fell to his knees and took a hold of Marsac, cradling the vampire in his arms.

Marsac was shaking all over, looking up at Aramis with shocked eyes.

“I...but I love you,” Marsac gasped.

Aramis, his face full of distress, tears welling up in his eyes, nodded. “I know, but I couldn’t let you kill him.”

Marsac started to look scared, he clung onto Aramis, grabbing his arm and holding on tightly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. All I seem to do is let you down.”

“It’s okay,” Aramis said, crying openly now. Tears streaming down his face. “I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for you. That’s what I’ll remember, I promise.”

Marsac nodded a little and then he started to change. Cracks slowly formed all over his face and his skin began to turn grey.

“Marsac, no! Wait!” Aramis suddenly cried, gripping onto his maker even harder, pulling him up and cradling him against his chest. The grey skin turned to ash and began to crumble. He was dissolving away, disappearing. A small cloud of ash floated into the air as Marsac became nothing more than a pile of clothes and dust.

Aramis openly sobbed. Having nothing to cling onto he fell forward, face in his hands and cried. Porthos was crying too, seeing the distress of the man he loved. Knowing that he just had to kill his very own maker to save his life. Porthos couldn’t even comprehend what a horrible decision that must have been.

He moved forward quickly and got down onto his knees beside Aramis. He wasn’t sure if the vampire would push him away but he had to try. He reached out and grabbed him, pulling Aramis against his chest he held on tight and didn’t want to let go.

“What the fuck?” came a voice from behind them. Porthos turned his head and saw Treville standing there in boxers and a dressing-gown, looking at them with an expression of pure horror on his face.

A little while later Aramis and Porthos were sitting on bar-stools. Treville was standing behind the bar pouring out shots of vodka for them all. Aramis wasn’t drinking his but Treville had drunk about five.

“So there are good vampires and bad vampires?” Treville was asking, his voice and tone even like he was suffering from a migraine, which was probably quite likely.

Porthos thought about the question for a moment before giving him a shrug. “It’s not as clear as that. It’s all a little bit more blurry.”

“But the one that was just stabbed in my bar wasn’t a nice vampire?”

Porthos glanced over at Aramis who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. He didn’t want to upset him any further so Porthos decided to be careful with his words.

“Well he was trying to kill me.”

“Kill you? The werewolf?”

Porthos nodded. He knew that it was a lot for Treville to understand but it was vital that they took the time to explain it. The last thing any of them needed was a hysterical person going to the police or the press.

“I know this is a lot to take in, mate, but you have to realise that the reason this world has been kept secret from you humans is for your own sake. If humans found out about vampires and werewolves it would create mass hysteria and panic. It could be the start of World War Three and, trust me, chances are the vampires would win that one.”

Treville seemed to think about it for a while whilst pouring himself another vodka shot.

“Who would believe me anyway? They’d probably just lock me up.” Treville let out a very long sigh. “Did I just hire a vampire to work as a part-time barman?”

Porthos looked confused for a moment before putting the pieces together. “D’Artagnan? Oh no, he’s human. There are ghosts as well but maybe we won’t go into that today. I think you have one living here though. In fact…I think she might have tried saving my life.”

Porthos looked over at the empty shelves where bottles once stood. Those bottles were still smashed all over the ground. The beautiful ghost was the only explanation he could come up with. He had heard that they could move objects without having to touch them. He briefly wondered if Athos would learn to do that.

Treville waved his arm around. “Yes, I think I’ve heard enough for the time-being. Look…” he paused for a moment, placing his hand on the bar he looked at Aramis before talking to Porthos. “Whilst I’m a little shaken up about the fact a vampire was just killed in my pub, you all seem like nice young people. As long as you keep this stuff away from here in future, I will keep my mouth shut. I have a sister who has three kids from three different men unbeknownst to her long-suffering husband and a nephew who likes dressing up in women’s clothes. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

Porthos smiled. “Thank you. I need to get Aramis home. We’ll pay for all of the broken bottles…somehow.”

Treville shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’ll get my ghost to do the washing-up for the week.”

Porthos and Aramis slowly walked back to the house. It was still very early in the morning. The other two were probably asleep, or Athos was playing Call of Duty at the very least. Porthos took Aramis to his room and helped the traumatised vampire undress. Once Aramis was tucked up underneath his blankets he spoke for the first time.

“He was going to shoot you.”

Porthos sat on the bed and nodded, “Yes, he was. You saved my life. How did you know where to find us?”

Aramis sniffed, looking up at Porthos he suddenly seemed paler and young, very young, despite his ever so many years.

“I woke up in his hotel room and just had this gut feeling that he’d be coming the house. So I ran home but then I caught his scent outside The Garrsion. I…I thought he would change. I thought he _could_ change.”

Reaching out, Porthos stroked back some of those brown curls, pushing them away from the vampire’s face but he didn’t say anything.

“Instead he tried to kill Constance and tried to kill you. Once again I’ve dragged darkness into your lives.”

“Stop,” Porthos said firmly. “I’m a sodding sexy-man beast, Constance chooses to be our friend and Athos comes with his own dark past. You never dragged us into anything. What you did today…well I can’t even begin to understand what you did today and I know it’s going to take you a while to process it but I want you to know that I’m grateful.”

“I chose you,” Aramis suddenly said, looking up at Porthos. The words made Porthos smile a little, although they could have meant many things. Suddenly, looking a little bit embarrassed about it, Aramis turned away and wiggled over in the bed slightly. “Stay with me tonight,” he requested. “Your blood is poisonous to me so you don’t have to worry about me biting you whilst you’re asleep.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that anyway,” Porthos said but he quickly started getting undressed before Aramis changed his mind. “D’Artagnan has been here two weeks and you’ve not bitten him yet. And you’ve never bitten Constance. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Well I’m scared of Constance and d’Artagnan…I’ve been tempted. Especially when he starts singing at seven in the morning.”

Porthos chuckled and pulled off his clothing until he was down to his jeans. He tugged back the covers and got in beside the cold vampire but the coldness didn’t bother him, not in the slightest. Aramis immediately curled up against the werewolf’s side, resting his head against Porthos’ chest and wrapping his arm around the waist. Porthos froze, too afraid to move. He heard Aramis let out a very long sigh.

“You gonna be okay?” Porthos asked, whispering into the darkness.

“I don’t know,” came the honest reply. “I think so.”


	11. Reruns of Doctor Who

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Author's notes - Just a quick note that I'm not really planning the relationships, they're just naturally emerging as the story develops. Which is probably something professional writers would tell me off for but, alas, I'm not a professional writer. I mean there is one couple starting to emerge that I really hadn't planned at all, but it's sweet. So there will be some big developments between pairings very soon whereas feelings between other characters will be more of a slow-burn.]

It was almost lunch-time by the time Porthos’ stomach woke him up to discover a cold body wrapped around him. If it had been anyone else Porthos would have panicked but the body belonged to Aramis and Aramis was already dead.

Porthos wanted to stay in the bed with his sleeping friend but he had an unfortunate problem thanks to a particular dream which included Aramis…in the woods…with very little clothing…on his hands and knees. Porthos groaned at the memory. He really needed to stop having dirty dreams about his best-mate.

The werewolf attempted to slide out from underneath the sleeping-body which made the vampire whimper a little when the warm chest pillow disappeared. Porthos froze for a moment, wondering if he was going to wake up, but Aramis just mumbled something, flopped over onto his back and stayed asleep. Porthos looked down at him affectionately, watching the gentle rise and fall of Aramis’ bare chest as he slept. Vampires breathe, vampires feel pain, vampires cry. Sometimes Porthos forgot that Aramis was a vampire at all because sometimes he seemed so…human.

Porthos gently pulled the bed-sheet back up to cover Aramis and then disappeared from the room and ducked into the bathroom where he took care of business in the shower.

Once he was out and clean, he tip-toed back into his bedroom to slip on a pair of boxers and jeans. He was still rubbing his hair dry with a towel when he went down into the kitchen to satisfy his complaining stomach. There he stumbled upon a rather unusual sight. Constance was sitting at the kitchen-table with a half empty bottle of red-wine in front of her and a glass. Athos was standing behind her with his eyes closed. His hands were either side of her head, his fingers pressing at her temples. When Constance saw Porthos she looked relieved.

“Oh thank goodness! You can take over. If I drink anymore I’m going to start getting tipsy.”

Athos opened his eyes and had a bit of a strange dopey look about him but, when he spotted Porthos, he immediately removed his hands from Constance and looked guilty. Porthos stared at them both for a moment and then decided that he just didn’t want to know. So he walked past to make himself some lunch.

“You’re up late,” Constance said, watching Porthos walk over to the fridge. “It’s a full-moon tonight, Porthos. You have remembered?”

“How can I bloody forget?” he muttered, grabbing some sausages out of the fridge to do himself a fry-up. Then he felt a bit bad for being grumpy and he turned to Constance. “How are you feeling?”

A smile suddenly appeared on her face as did a blush on her cheeks. Porthos knew her well enough to know that meant not too good but I’m going to pretend everything is wonderful anyway.

“Oh you know,” she said, getting up from her chair and swinging her skirt around. “I’m just fi….” She suddenly stumbled and had to reach out for the table to steady herself. She immediately shot daggers at the ghost. “Goodness gracious, Athos, how much did you make me drink?! The room’s spinning.”

Athos shrugged although he was looking at the wine bottle with longing in his eyes.  

“Look, guys, I need to tell you something,” Porthos said. No more secrets. If he was going to preach that to the others then he needed to stick to it himself. Constance sat herself back down at the kitchen-table before she fell over, still glaring at Athos. But it was only seconds before a sweet- smile returned to her face as she gave the werewolf her full attention once more.

“Yes, Porthos, what is it?”

Porthos sighed, he still had sausages in his hands but he leaned back against the oven to face them.

“Marsac tried to kill me last night. I think your ghost, Athos, tried to save me but then Aramis turned up and he stuck a stake or something into Marsac. And this all happened in front of Treville, the owner of The Garrison.”

The other two were stunned into silence for at least a minute until Athos spoke up first.

“And this all happened last night?”

Porthos nodded. “I was tricked. I thought Aramis needed my help but Marsac just wanted to get me alone. He had a gun. He was going to shoot me.”

“Oh, Porthos,” Constance said sympathetically. “You poor thing. You must have been terrified. And Aramis killed him? Poor Aramis.”

Porthos looked at her and then looked over at Athos. He knew that none of them liked Marsac but, still, Aramis did. They had to think of him.

“He’s going to be pretty messed up today. I mean he killed his own maker. We all need to keep a really close eye on him but it’s a full moon tonight so I won’t be here. Athos, please don’t let him out of your sight this time.”

“I won’t,” Athos said, standing up a little bit straighter. “I assure you that I will watch him like a hawk.”

“Good, thank you,” Porthos responded, watching Athos for a moment and suddenly realising how much he admired the man, or at least the man which the solemn ghost was starting to turn into. Perhaps the man he had been all along.

\--------------------------------------

Once Porthos had eaten the much needed fry-up he took a plate of warm croissants up to Aramis who seemed to be awake although he was just lying on his side staring at the wall. Porthos knew that Aramis loved croissants and hoped the smell would made him feel a little better.

“Hey, I brought you food,” Porthos announced but placed it down on the bedside table because Aramis didn’t appear to be moving. Porthos got back onto the bed and sat behind him, leaning against the headboard. “How you doing?”

He waited patiently for an answer. A little unsure if he was going to get one at all until Aramis eventually spoke.

“I’m trying to understand what he was thinking. What did he hope to achieve by killing you?”

“He was jealous,” Porthos pointed out with a shrug. “He probably thought if he got rid of me and the others, you’d have no option but to be with him.”

“But I could be…” Whatever Aramis was trying to say he obviously changed his mind because he didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he started saying something else. “…I could have been friends with all of you. It wasn’t a question of him or you.”

“I know,” Porthos said and reached over to place his hand on Aramis’ bare shoulder, hoping to bring some comfort. “But it was for him.”

At the touch Aramis rolled onto his back and looked up at Porthos. Porthos didn’t move his hand away, he rather liked having his hand there.

“Do you want to know one of the worst things about being a vampire?” Aramis asked and Porthos nodded to encourage Aramis to talk about whatever he needed to. Aramis looked so painfully sad, like his entire body was hurting. “You have to bury a lot of friends. You know that’s why you and I can’t...I mean...”

Porthos frowned. Aramis was trying to tell him something but he wasn’t getting the words out and it didn’t make sense to Porthos. “You and I can’t what?” he asked but Aramis suddenly sighed and sat himself up.

“We should talk to Athos,” he announced, suddenly changing the subject as he leaned back against the pillows. Porthos was confused and struggled to keep up.

“Athos? About his wife?”

Aramis nodded, running his fingers through his messy bed-hair. “D’Artagnan has been very patient considering he came to us for help and we’ve done nothing but try to put him off. Perhaps having this talk with Athos will end it once and for all. Athos won’t want d’Artagnan to hunt down his ex-wife. He might talk d’Artagnan out of it.”

Porthos nodded and finally pulled his hand away from the shoulder. Aramis was making his head hurt with his unfinished sentences and changes of subjects.

“Why don’t we do it tomorrow?” Porthos suggested. “After the full-moon. I’m gonna have pre-moon tension today and I’ve already got a lot going on inside my head.”

Aramis nodded, accepting the decision. Then he reached out and Porthos felt a hand on the back of his neck. He was being pulled forward as Aramis twisted and soon Porthos had cold arms around his shoulders. Porthos wrapped his own arms around Aramis’ back and held him tightly, leaning into the embrace.

There they stayed for a while, holding each other firmly. Porthos buried his nose into Aramis’ hair so he could smell him. The scent that was Aramis. The juniper berry and cinnamon from his cologne and the strawberries from that damn girly shampoo that he liked to use.

Eventually Porthos felt Aramis start to move and he panicked at the thought of losing the hold. He wanted to stay like that forever. He reached up and cupped Aramis’ face before he could move away. Suddenly they were looking at each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. Aramis looked so sorrowful that Porthos wanted to kiss all of the sadness away. He moved to do so but Aramis flinched and tried to turn his head. The action made Porthos’ chest hurt but he didn’t question it because he didn’t want to take advantage of a broken man. Instead he placed a soft kiss on the vampire’s forehead and then let go. There was at least small smile on Aramis’ face when they did finally pull apart.

“Eat your croissants,” Porthos suggested, trying not to let any emotion escape in his voice. “Food always makes you feel better.”

\--------------------------------

Porthos hated going out that night. He hated the full-moon at the best of times. The pain of the change never got any easier and every single time it happened he was terrified that he’d accidentally hurt some unsuspecting person camping in the woods. Yet that night it was particularly bad as he had to leave Aramis. Before he left he dragged Athos into the kitchen.

“He might try and sneak out. You know what he’s like, but it’s best you keep him at home. His cravings might get the better of him if he’s upset…”

“Porthos,” came the firm voice of the ghost, stopping Porthos and his rambings. “…worry about yourself. We can look after Aramis. He seems quite content watching reruns of Doctor Who with d’Artagnan at the moment.”

Porthos nodded. It pained him so much to have to leave but what good would staying achieve? They’d have a rampaging werewolf trying to kill them. Curse his curse. He had always hated it but even more so that day. He couldn’t even bring himself to say goodbye to Aramis, he just snuck out and got into the car with his spare clothes and just sat there solemnly for a while.

Then, with a lot of reluctant effort, he turned the car key and began his journey out of Paris and into the countryside. He knew that he’d have to drive fast to reach the woods in time for his change, he had taken too long to leave the house.

Only he didn’t get to the woods, he wasn’t even outside of the city when a warning light flashed up on the car dashboard and the engine cut-out.

“What the?” he muttered as the car slowed down and he was forced to pull over to the side of the road. He turned the key to try and start the engine again but it just spluttered and whined and didn’t come back to life. “You have got to be…” he tried again. It made the same noises and then nothing else. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swore and tried once more, slamming his foot down on the accelerator desperately.

It was almost time for his change and he wasn’t anywhere near the woods. In fact he was stuck right in the middle of the high street. His heart started pounding. He couldn’t wait for breakdown assistance. He looked around and noticed the sign for a bus-stop outside so swung open the door and raced out.

\----------------------------------

“Another one?” Aramis asked hopefully but d’Artagnan, who was sitting beside him on the sofa, shook his head.

“I want to get an early night. It’s my first proper shift tomorrow.”

Aramis looked at the human longingly. “But you don’t start until the middle of the afternoon. We could watch a couple more?”

“I know,” d’Artagnan said but got up from the couch anyway and stretched, the action made his sweater ride up and he exposed his stomach to them all. They’d just watched four episodes of Doctor Who in a row and he was aching. “But I want to be wide awake and ready for action.”

Aramis sulked, a frown forming on his face as he folded his arms. “All you’re doing is…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence because Athos, who was sitting in his favourite arm-chair, cut in. “Let him sleep. It’s good that he’s taking his responsibilities seriously.”

“Responsibilities?” Aramis questioned from his sunken pose on the giant red sofa. “All he’s doing is….”

“Aramis,” came the stern voice of the ghost once more so Aramis closed his mouth.

“Goodnight,” d’Artagnan said with a smile at them both and left them to it. Athos was still glaring at the vampire.

“You might not deem his work as important as your own but he’s excited about it and, to be quite frank, I’m rather pleased that it’s distracting him.”

Aramis kept his mouth well and truly shut, worried about just how much Athos knew. He decided to stop himself from satisfying his curiosity because he wanted to be with the other two when they finally tackled that conversation with Athos.

So, instead, he sighed and picked up the remote to find some ridiculously bad reality TV show. Doctor Who had taken his mind off everything, he hoped to find something else that would do the same. It didn’t take long to discover a show which was suitably awful considering most of the TV channels were full of it.

He was only a few minutes into the show when Athos slowly got up from his chair and came over to sit with Aramis. Aramis knew that the ghost hated trashy TV so he could only assume that the man had promised Porthos that he’d taken care of him and had obviously decided that would be easier from the same chair. Aramis thought it was sweet but his mind soon wavered from the show and back onto something else…Marsac. He wondered how long it would be until the sick feeling in his stomach would be gone and his head would stop feeling foggy. He felt guilty and angry and he wasn’t sure which emotion was the worst.

Aramis wasn’t really watching the show at all anymore, he was just trying to stop himself from crying but his bottom lip kept on trembling and his eyes threatened tears. He wanted Porthos but Porthos wasn’t there. Instead there was Athos. Athos might be a ghost but there was something about him which made Aramis…tingle. Perhaps it was the chill he could feel against his exposed skin whenever Athos was close. Maybe it was the connection they shared both not quite being alive but living some sort of existence nevertheless. Either way, Aramis suddenly wanted to get closer to Athos. He turned and looked at the ghost whose own eyes were fixed on the television as if he was watching out of some sort of morbid curiosity.

Before he had the chance to let the sense part of his brain to catch up, Aramis had a sudden urge to lean towards Athos. So he did, pressing his lips against the stubble which covered the jaw. It made him Athos jump and he tried to turn his head to look at Aramis.

“What are you doing?”

“I need it…” Aramis whispered as he tilted his head and placed a kiss underneath Athos’ earlobe. Athos tried to move away but the further he leaned back, the more Aramis moved to get closer.

“Aramis…this isn’t a good idea…” Athos whispered but made no effort to push Aramis away, even when Aramis’ hand tugged at his jumper, lifting it up. Then slim vampire fingers slipped underneath and rubbed up his ribs, over his skin.

“You’re not cold once you get close, you’re nice and warm,” Aramis said with a smile, pulling his face back only to look at Athos.

“Aramis, you’re upset, now really isn’t the time to experiment.”

“Experiment?” Aramis raised an eyebrow. “Have you never done this before?”

“That’s none of your business,” Athos frowned.

Aramis seemed to study him for a moment and then he obviously decided that the answer was suitable. Before Athos had a chance to say anything else, there was a mouth on his owns. Lips pressing desperately.  He automatically moaned against the impatient lips which seemed to invite an icy tongue inside. Athos tried to use his own tongue to push the intruding one away but that was rewarded with a delighted reaction from Aramis, who then appeared even more eager and the lips pushed harder. No, this has gone too far. Athos turned his head away to stop the kiss.

“Stop, Aramis, please.”

Aramis did in fact do as he was told. He pressed his hand against Athos’ chest and pushed himself up. Then he just sat there, staring down at his own lap. His thumb scratching at his fingers. Athos hadn’t meant to upset him but he had no intention of letting a grieving vampire make a mistake either.

“As much as I feel flattered, why do you seek physical comfort from me when there is someone who is so desperate to give it to you?” he asked, tugging his jumper back down.

“What do you mean?” Aramis asked but, before Athos had the time to explain, some pop music started playing from the other side of the sofa. Aramis sprang to action and threw himself towards his phone.

“Porthos?” he immediately said after looking at the caller ID. Porthos was speaking so fast that Aramis could barely understand what the man was trying to say. He sounded flustered and scared. He was going on about the car and buses but not having his wallet…

“Calm down and speak slowly,” Aramis insisted. He could hear the werewolf sigh and then explain that the car had broken down and he was going to change soon but couldn’t get to the woods. He’d left his wallet in the house so they wouldn’t let him on the bus and he didn’t know what to do.

“Where are you?” Aramis asked and there was a pause as Porthos obviously looked around and came back with the name of a bakery. Aramis knew exactly where he was.

“Stay where you are.” Aramis hung up and immediately looked at Athos who was desperate to know what was going on.

“Porthos needs my help,” Aramis said right before jumping up and racing off to the find the keys to his motorbike. Athos stood up and was debating if he should stop Aramis. Was this all some clever plan to get out of the house? No, Aramis wouldn’t sink as low as pretending something had happened to Porthos.

“Can I assist?” Athos asked and Aramis shook his head as he leaned down to pull on his boots.

“I need to go and get him,” Aramis explained.


	12. Werewolf proof

Porthos was pacing up and down the street panicking. He could already feel his body starting to change. Sudden bolts of agonising pain would shoot up his spine and he had to grit his teeth to stop himself from crying out as he doubled over. He had been given a couple of odd looks from strangers but, thankfully, they all just hurried past him.

“Hurry up, Aramis,” he whispered to himself although he was no longer sure if calling Aramis had been the wisest thing to do. He should have just found somewhere to hide. An unused building perhaps but how would he have locked himself in? The risk of letting a werewolf lose in the middle of Paris was terrifying. He needed to be far away or he needed to be locked up. Those were the only two options he really had.

Another couple of minutes later he heard the loud purr of a motorbike and looked out into the road, spotting Aramis coming in his leathers and black helmet. Suddenly all of his concerns about calling Aramis vanished. A vampire on a motorbike felt like the equivalent of Prince Charming on a white horse coming to save him.

Aramis parked up quickly and pulled his helmet off, he went racing over to Porthos. Porthos grabbed at the leather jacket because another burst of pain was suddenly surging through him and he was finding it difficult to stay on his feet.

“You have to take me out of Paris,” he begged.

“We don’t have time,” Aramis responded. “It’ll take too long even if I break all the speed-limits. We need to get you home.”

“No!” Porthos yelled, gripping the jacket tighter. “You can’t take me home.”

“Yes I can,” Aramis insisted. He already had an arm around Porthos’ waist and was guiding him towards the bike. “We’ll lock you in.”

“That won’t be enough,” Porthos said through gritted teeth but found himself stumbling along with Aramis regardless. “I might break out through a window.”

“They’re super burglarproof double-glazing,” Aramis pointed out and managed to somehow shove Porthos onto the back of the bike, helping him swing his leg over the frame.

“That’s not the same as being werewolf proof!” Porthos yelled. He didn’t mean to yell but he was so frightened that he might hurt someone.

“Porthos,” Aramis said and placed his hands on the werewolf’s cheeks, forcing his friend to look right at him. “I have an idea. A better idea. Do you trust me?”

Porthos looked up at Aramis and nodded, because he did trust him. Aramis smiled quickly and then pulled out his phone. He called the house and spoke to Athos. Another stab of pain shot up Porthos’ spine and the blood pumping in his ears meant that he couldn’t hear the hurried phone conversation but it wasn’t long before Aramis had his helmet back on and he was climbing onto the bike.

After some rather hair-raising driving which forced Porthos to grip onto the vampire’s waist and hold on for dear life, Aramis managed to get them somewhere within a few short minutes and it wasn’t a moment too soon because Porthos was starting to change. He had managed to somehow cling on, both mentally and physically during the ride, but his resolve was starting to disappear. When the bike pulled up on the street Porthos lifted his sweaty face and noticed that they weren’t outside the house but Aramis had parked up outside The Garrison.

“What are you doing?” he gasped, this was worse, the place would be packed!

“It’ll have a cellar. Come on.” Aramis grabbed Porthos and flung the man’s large arm over his shoulders, helping him get off the bike. Porthos wobbled and his legs gave way, he almost fell to the ground but Aramis managed to keep him standing somehow. He was stronger than he looked, part of being a vampire. But Aramis being so close was starting to drive Porthos mad. The smell of a vampire was making him…angry. No, this was Aramis, he couldn’t hurt Aramis. Yet his fingers seemed to grip down on Aramis’ shoulder harder than necessary. Yet Aramis made no indication that it hurt, even if it did. He just continued to drag Porthos into the bar.

Inside there was a crowd. A few people looked up at the pair as they stumbled inside, then they just seemed to shake their heads and whisper to each other.  

Yes, Aramis thought, keep thinking that he’s a drunken idiot, I’d rather you thought that. He dragged Porthos over to the bar where Treville was standing there with his mouth hanging open. Once they reached Treville, Aramis pulled Porthos’ arm away and pretty much dropped the big guy against the bar. Porthos fell onto it and grimaced as another wave of pain hit him. He had to grit his teeth furiously to stop himself from crying out.

“Please tell me you have a cellar,” Aramis said, looking desperately at Treville. Treville stared at Aramis, then at Porthos, then back to Aramis.

He sighed before he spoke. “Yes. Dare I ask? Come on.”

He didn’t seem at all happy about the idea but he waved Aramis around the bar. So Aramis grabbed Porthos again and jumped when Porthos suddenly snarled at him. It made Aramis almost stagger back but then he realised he’d drop Porthos if he did that so he held on.

“Please don’t bite me,” Aramis requested as he tried to ignore the fact Porthos’ eyes had turned yellow. He hauled Porthos around the bar. Treville had knelt down and he was opening the trap-door which led down into the cellar beneath them. When he stood back up he jumped when he saw Porthos’ changing face.

“You might want to clear this place of humans,” Aramis suggested. Treville frowned but then let out another defeated sigh and started shouting to his customers something about a water leak and they’d have to close the bar. There were grumbles and complaints but Treville sounded quite serious as he carefully walked past the pair and set about kicking people out.

Aramis was just trying to figure out how to get Porthos down into the cellar when the man screamed out and his body jerked so violently that it almost sent Aramis flying. He dropped Porthos who fell to the ground onto his hands and knees.

“Porthos,” he whispered and moved to reach out for him but Porthos suddenly turned his head and Aramis froze. Not only were the eyes yellow but hair was starting to push out from his cheeks. Aramis had never seen him change before. Another scream as Porthos arched his back and his body started to contort.

“Aramis?” he heard his name and looked up to see Athos scrambling behind the bar. Seeing Athos brought his mind back to reality.

“We…he needs to get into the cellar,” Aramis told Athos. Athos immediately grabbed Porthos by the shoulders even though muscles and hair were starting to rip through the tearing shirt. Porthos growled and twisted his head to try and bite Athos. Athos didn’t even flinch.

“Careful!” Aramis yelled a warning.

“I’m already dead,” Athos pointed out through gritted teeth as he tried to heave Porthos up. “Come on, Porthos. Help me out here.”

As if the human inside heard, suddenly the half-man and half-wolf rose to his feet and stumbled forwards with Athos. The ghost guided Porthos to the steps which led down into the cellar and Porthos went down first. Aramis heard another scream just as Porthos was half-way down the steps and then a crash as he fell down the rest. Aramis jumped forward to help but Athos pushed him back.

“He’ll hurt you. Stay here,” Athos ordered as he followed Porthos down. Suddenly the hatch was slammed shut and silence hung over the bar. Aramis just stood there, staring down at the hatch when Treville reappeared and pushed the metal lock over the wood to shut Porthos in.

“Are you alright?” he asked Aramis. Aramis couldn’t speak for a moment but then he slowly lifted his head up and looked at Treville, giving the man a little nod.

“Will he be okay down there?” Treville asked, genuinely sounding concerned.

Aramis nodded slowly again but this time he also managed to speak. “Athos is with him.”

“Who the fuck is Athos? And what the fuck did I tell you about not involving me in all this?” Treville said and immediately went over to his spirits to pour himself a shot of whiskey. “When I said that I meant forever, not just for 24 bloody hours.”

Aramis let him rant but he wasn’t really listening. He was listening to see if he could hear anything from the cellar. He wanted to be down there but he knew that was a bad idea. Werewolves kill vampires and vampires kill werewolves. Porthos wouldn’t hurt a hair on Aramis’ head when he was human but that…that wasn’t Porthos.

Aramis suddenly sunk down onto the floor and sat on the wooden hatch. He heard another scream coming from down below. He’d never had to listen to it before, to the pain that Porthos went through. Aramis brought his knees up to his chest, rested his elbows onto them and slammed his hands over his ears. He couldn’t listen anymore but he didn’t want to leave Porthos either.

It wasn’t long before there was someone beside him. Treville had come to sit next to him. He held out the whiskey to Aramis but Aramis shook his head as a tear rolled down his cheek. Treville had the sense not to say anything, he just sat there with the vampire silently. The screaming eventually stopped after what seemed like an agonisingly long time only to be replaced by banging and crashing noises coming from down below. Treville flinched each time it happened so, this time, it was Aramis’ turn not to say anything as Treville continued to pour himself whiskey. In fact Aramis eventually got up to fetch his own glass and joined him.

“So, who is Athos?” Treville asked, trying to distract them both from the noise, pouring more whiskey into the vampire’s glass.

“He’s a ghost,” Aramis explained.

“Ah,” Treville nodded, like that was a perfectly normal explanation. “My ghost?”

Aramis shook his head. “No, you have a female ghost. Athos is our friend. He was married to a witch that went around murdering people.”

There was a silence which lingered between them for a moment, only broken by the howl of a wolf coming from the cellar.

“You know what…” Treville finally said once the howling had stopped. “…I’m going to stop asking questions.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Aramis woke up to his name being whispered and his shoulder being shaken. He attempted to open his eyes but it took a while. He could hear snoring from somewhere and vaguely registered the fact he was lying on something hard and very uncomfortable. He slowly lifted his head and realised that Athos was leaning over him. He felt incredibly confused, especially when he turned to discover the source of the snoring was Treville lying a few feet away fast asleep with a half empty whiskey bottle gripped firmly in his hand.

“What…happened?” Aramis asked, trying to get his memories back as he sat up, Athos assisting him.

“You may want to move so Porthos can get out,” was all Athos said as he took his hands away from Aramis’ shoulders.

“Porthos?” Suddenly Aramis remembered. They were at The Garrison. Porthos was down in the cellar. “How did you…” he began, looking at Athos. Then he remembered Athos was Nightcrawler. “…hey you’re really getting good at that.”

Athos didn’t say anything, just encouraged Aramis to move off the hatch which was obviously where Aramis had passed-out. So Aramis did, shuffling away on his backside until Athos could get to the lock and pull back the metal. He then lifted up the hatch and threw something down there.

“There you go!” he yelled down below as Aramis watched.

“What did you…” Aramis began to ask but was soon interrupted by Athos explaining.

“Trousers.”

Aramis nodded slowly. He gave Athos a quick glance over whilst the ghost was looking down in the cellar. Athos was dead but Porthos could touch him. Never having seen a werewolf attack a ghost before, Aramis wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if one ever did. Yet Athos seemed intact and quite calm. Aramis felt like a mess, he had no-idea how Athos looked so composed.

It only took a couple of minutes for Porthos to start emerging from the cellar, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. Aramis started shaking as he waited, he couldn’t help himself. As soon as Porthos pulled his second foot out of the cellar Aramis couldn’t hold back no longer, he flung himself forward into Porthos’ arms and hugged the bare skin tightly, burying his face into Porthos’ shoulder. Big arms wrapped around him and held him. Then Aramis let out the tears. He couldn’t stop them or control them. His shoulders shook as he sobbed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Porthos whispered into the vampire’s ear. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

Aramis managed to somehow nod but wouldn’t let go. He might have lost Marsac but he hadn’t lost Porthos. Porthos was still there. He didn’t want to lose Porthos, the thought terrified him so much.

Someone cleared their throat close by and they both looked to see Athos standing there forgotten. Aramis finally loosened his grip on Porthos a little.

“All we have in this world is each other,” Aramis said, sniffing and finally gaining some of his composure. He glanced back at Porthos before turning his attention once more to the ghost. “No more secrets. Athos, we need to talk to you but we have to talk to you with d’Artagnan. It’s about time we all started being honest with each other.”

“Thank god,” Porthos muttered.

\-------------------------------------------------------

After making sure that Treville was at least comfortable in his drunken slumber, they all headed back to the house and woke d’Artagnan up. It only took a few minutes to assemble everyone in the living-room. Porthos now had clothes on and the three of them sat on the sofa as Athos faced them in his armchair.

“I feel like I’m being integrated,” he mumbled when no-one seemed to be speaking. 

“No…don’t…” Aramis started and then sighed. “We have something that we need to tell you and you might want to kill us. So, may I remind you how Porthos and I kindly took you in a couple of years ago and have loved you ever since. I even let you take my X-Box into your bedroom on long-term loan.”

“Get on with it, Aramis,” Porthos muttered out of the side of his mouth.

Aramis’ head immediately snapped around. “Why am I the one even doing this?! I was dragged into it. You two made me…”

Sitting forward d’Artagnan interrupted the bickering, “They’ve been helping me find your wife.”

That was all he said and silence hung over all four of them for a while until Athos shifted in his chair, the only visible sign that he was feeling uncomfortable.

“Have you been successful?” he asked, his face very stoic.

The three of them looked at each other for a while, silently trying to figure out who should speak next and what they should say. Aramis decided to take the lead.

“We discovered that your wife is a witch and she also goes by the name of Milady. She’s pretty notorious amongst my kind for being…well…notorious.”

Deciding that was enough for now Aramis stopped talking again and they all sat there waiting for a reaction from Athos. Athos didn’t react at all. He just sat there and stared at them.

“Umm…” Aramis hated lingering silences so he decided to continue filling the void. “Did you know all of that?”

They all continued to wait until Athos finally spoke. “Some of it,” was all he said and then didn’t offer anything more.

D’Artagnan sat forward, unable to contain his impatience any longer. “Do you have any idea where she might be? I don’t even know where to start looking and Aramis hasn’t been-able to find out.”

Athos looked at Aramis, the vampire sunk down into the sofa a little, trying to disappear. Porthos placed a reassuring hand on his knee and spoke, attempting to help out.

“I’m sorry, Athos. We should have been honest with you from the start,” he said. “But we were worried about bringing it all back for you. Only d’Artagnan is very _determined_.” He put emphasis on the last word in a hope that Athos would understand the difficult situation which they have both been put in.

Athos nodded and then his attention was back on d’Artagnan.

“Why do you wish to find her?”

“Because she killed my father! I can’t let her just disappear and get away with it. Surely you don’t want that either? You killed yourself to stop her from killing people but do you really think she has stopped?”

“You killed yourself?” Aramis looked surprised at the revelation.

“Yes,” Athos admitted. "I agree that we all need to be honest with each other and now it is my turn. I have…” he paused for a moment. “…been looking for her. I’m not as obsessed with Call of Duty as you think. If you would allow me to leave for a moment?”

They all nodded and Athos suddenly vanished into thin air.

“I wish I could do that,” Aramis mumbled to himself. They all sat there in complete silence until Athos re-appeared but this time he walked down the stairs, carrying a black book which he was clutching close to his chest like it was very precious to him.

He appeared nervous as he went over to stand before them. Then, he slowly held the book out to d’Artagnan who took it carefully and placed it down onto his lap. D’Artagnan opened it up and discovered that the book was filled to the brim with clippings from newspapers and printed out articles from the internet all about unsolved murders. Some parts were highlighted and others had scribbled words all over them. Athos continued to stand there as d’Artagnan carefully fingered through the pages.

“I think she may have lived in Italy before she came to France,” Athos began. “She might still be in France. There were a couple of suspicious murders recently. Single stab wounds to the chests to business men that appeared, on the surface, to have no enemies. No other injuries and no signs of a struggle. But no bluebell either. I believe she may have left those at the other crime scenes for me but now, of course, she believes that I’m dead.”

“And I hope it stays that way,” Porthos grumbled.

Athos nodded in agreement. “I concur. The problem is…I have no-idea how to find her and what to do once I do find her.”

D’Artagnan looked up from the book and opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it and closed his mouth again. It was Aramis who ended up speaking first.

“You two are really want this, don’t you?” he asked.

Both Athos and d’Artagnan nodded which made Aramis sigh.

“Perhaps I haven’t been quite as…helpful as I could’ve been. There is someone else I could ask. Someone who might know a little more than Marsac did. I’ve just been hesitant about contacting her because it might put her in danger.”

“Who?” d’Artagnan asked.


	13. Be still my unbeating heart

“Are you really going to see her?” Porthos asked concerned as he watched Aramis put his boots on in the hallway. Perhaps the answer to the question was obvious but anxiety was bubbling around in Porthos’ stomach and he couldn’t shake the feeling. It was a week after Aramis had first suggested the meeting which had given Porthos a whole week to worry about it.

“Yes. They both know everyone. If anyone is going to know about ex-Mrs Athos, it’ll be one of those two.”

“I know,” Porthos said, because he did know but that didn’t make the thought of what Aramis was doing any easier. “Maybe I could come? Make sure you’re safe.”

Aramis chuckled a little as he grabbed his biker gloves out of his jacket pocket and slipped them on.

“You know that our relationship is unusual, don’t you? Most vampires don’t tolerate werewolves.”

“Yeah but you said she was nice,” Porthos pointed out, moving to get ready even without the invitation.

Aramis gave him a disapproving look as he watched Porthos reach for his coat. “She is nice which is why she has agreed to meet me despite the danger it could put her in. Let’s not make it worse by forcing her meet a werewolf at the same time.” 

Porthos sighed and, defeated, he put his coat back onto the hook. “You’re not still in love with her, are you?” he asked, it was the question which was, perhaps, the real underlying cause of all of his concerns.

Aramis snorted and shook his head, “No.”

\----------------------------------

He was utterly and hopelessly in love with her. He knew that by the way everything around him suddenly disappeared the moment he spotted her walking into the cafe. She looked as breathtakingly beautiful as always, even in the simple black trousers, white wool jumper and long coat she was wearing in an attempt not to stand out. But she did stand out, she always did. Her elegance and beauty were something to behold.

Aramis stood up and bowed as she approached. He might not be in the coven anymore but he still considered her his queen. She chuckled at the bow but held her hand out for him to kiss.

“You are silly, Aramis,” she teased as he pressed his lips against her long fingers and then moved to pull back the chair for her. “And still charming I see.”

Once she had sat down Aramis walked around the table to join her. He had purposely picked a café on the outskirts of Paris which was always quiet. In fact they were the only customers apart from two old ladies sipping fruit tea by the window.

“Thank you for coming to see me, Anne,” Aramis said, wanting to get the necessities out of the way first. Anne nodded and smiled. The smile always seemed too warm to belong to a vampire but there were many sides to Anne, the warm friendly side and the strong determined side. Aramis had fallen in love with both.

“I thought that it must be important for you to risk meeting me. So I was curious.”

The waitress, a middle-aged lady with un-brushed hair tied back so that she wouldn’t have to deal with it, came over and asked what they wanted. Aramis quickly ordered two coffees and waited for the lady to walk away before he turned back to Anne.

“I’m afraid that depends on what you consider important. I’m looking for information for…a friend of mine. I couldn’t ask over email, even using my fake account, I was worried someone might hack in and read it.”

“Go on,” Anne asked, she looked even more curious as she crossed one leg on top of the other and sat back in the chair.

“He’s searching for the witch Milady. I was hoping you might know where she is or you could at least find out from someone in the council.”

“You’re after Milady?” she sounded surprised by the statement. Aramis didn’t blame her.

“Yes, for a friend. I don’t want to tell you much more because I don’t want to put you in danger.”

She paused for a moment and looked like she was deep in thought or perhaps the expression was concern. Aramis started to realise that he had been apart from her for so long that he was now less able to read her emotions as he once could.

“I don’t know where she is but, as you well know, the council tries to keep track of vampires, witches and werewolves. There is one man on the council I still trust. I could find out from him but you may need to give me time and he’ll want to know why I’m asking.”

Aramis paused for a moment but then decided that he should confide in Anne if he wanted her help. Or at least he could tell her part of it.

“She killed the father of my friend. He wants revenge.”

“She has killed a lot of people. A lot of vampires as well.”

“I know,” Aramis said with a nod of his head. “I’ve told him he’s crazy but he’s very insistent. So, I thought I’d give him the information and then let him do what he likes with it.”

Anne sighed, perhaps understanding his predicament. “I’ll do what I can. But, Aramis, far more importantly…how are you?” Her smile was back.

“Well, thank you,” he relaxed back in the chair when the coffee arrived. He blew on it before taking a quick sip. The answer wasn’t completely honest but now wasn’t the time to tell her about Marsac and what he had done. “Being clean suits me.”

She continued to smile and looked at him with an incredible fondness that made his heart melt. She always looked at him in a way that no-one else ever did; with pride and love. Or perhaps no-one apart from Porthos.

“You always were the best of us, Aramis.”

Aramis snorted into his coffee. “Rubbish.”

“They still talk about you. When Louis isn’t around anyway,” she chuckled quietly, obviously at some memory. “Wondering where you are, what you’re doing.”

Aramis sighed, allowing himself to reminisce for a moment about his past. The days of being in the coven, the time when he was admired, loved and feared. He was a very different vampire back then on a very dark path. Still, if he was being honest with himself, there were parts of his old life which he missed very much and yet he didn’t wish to go back to it.

“I know but my life is better now,” he declared. “It’s not easy being clean but I’m more at peace with myself. I was a monster before.”

Anne shrugged a little and had some of her own coffee before placing the mug back down. “We are all monsters. You just found it harder to come to terms with that than the rest of us.”

“I think you struggle,” Aramis offered up. “But I also think that you believe you don’t have a choice and I understand that. You were married to Louis so young and you’re loyal to him. Well…” he suddenly grinned and winked at her.

The wink made her laugh. “Not as loyal as I should have been,” she confessed. “But yes. I have responsibilities and duties in the coven. Even if I did believe that you are right, that there are other options for vampires, there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m the queen. My place is in the coven.”

Aramis nodded. He didn’t blame Anne for what she did. In fact he admired her sacrifice. “Still, if you do ever get the urge to run away and join my ragamuffin of friends, you’d always be welcome.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she said as she continued to smile.

“How is the coven?” Aramis asked, thinking of his old family. Unfortunately Louis saw his desertion as a betrayal and, therefore, Aramis had never gone back.

Anne gave a little shrug as she drank more coffee down. “We had some werewolf problems for a while because they’re growing in numbers but Louis seems to have dealt with it and things have calmed down. I didn’t ask how. I’m not sure I want to know.”

Aramis nodded, trying to hide his own curiosity about how Louis had dealt with the werewolf problem, wondering if Porthos was in any danger.

“Do you still work in the morgue?” she asked.

“Yes,” Aramis admitted. “Being on Louis’ hit-list means it’s even more important that I keep the council happy. I know Richelieu doesn’t like me but I don’t want to give him a reason to hate me. I’ll be a good little vampire as far as they’re concerned, covering up as many vampire killings as possible, at least for the time-being.”

“Until you show us all that there is a better way?” Anne asked with some amusement in her voice.

Aramis shrugged, “Yeah I’m not sure I can be bothered to do that. I‘m too busy eating pizza and watching Doctor Who.”

They both laughed until Anne drank some more of her coffee and then glanced up at the clock on the wall. “I should go. It has been a while since I managed to sneak out unnoticed and I’m a bit nervous about it.”

“I hope I haven’t got you into trouble,” Aramis said, rising from his chair. Anne did the same thing but moved around the table to get closer to Aramis.

“No. Keep emailing me with your ‘Emily’ email account and I’m sure we’ll be fine.” She suddenly wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. His arms did the same, holding her close to his chest. He smelt her hair and memories of old times came back to him. He found it difficult to let go when she started to move away. “I’ll find out what I can for you and be in touch.” She said and then she finally slipped away.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he watched her walk across the cafe, leaving two half-drunk cups of coffee on the table. Then he sighed wistfully as she left. “Be still my unbeating heart.”

\-------------------------------------------

Aramis was forced to report back to the others the second he stepped foot inside the house. He asked Athos and d’Artagnan to continue to be patient for a while longer. He explained that his contact was looking into it but it might take a couple of weeks.

So they all tried to get back to a sense of normality for a while, which was actually quite pleasant. For two whole weeks there were no dramas…apart from Aramis trying to kill d’Artagnan at one point for accidentally deleting something off the Sky Plus box. Athos, however, had managed a timely intervention and Aramis was banished to his room for the rest of the evening which somehow led to them all joining Aramis in his room and playing a particularly rowdy board game. Athos had no-idea how Aramis and his vampire charm worked but he was always rather impressed by it.

However, one Saturday night, when d’Artagnan was at work but the rest were in the house, there was a knock at the front door. Constance, who had been a little more hesitant at opening the front door since what had happened with Marsac, decided to be brave and went to see who it was. Anyway the boys were all in the living-room introducing Athos to Star Wars and would hear her scream if need be.

She opened the door to a woman with long messy blonde hair. She wore a green dress, black tights with holes, big black boots and a black leather jacket. She looked Constance up and down and frowned, like she was judging her. Constances’ fingers tightened on the door but she tried not to feel intimidated.

“Can I help you?” Constance asked, remembering her manners.

“I’m looking for Porthos,” the woman said and Constance called for Porthos over her shoulder.

It didn’t take long for the werewolf to appear, despite the fact he looked a little bit pissed off at being pulled away from the movie. Only, when he saw who it was, his face immediately softened.

“Flea! What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry for bothering you, Porthos,” she said, the look of relief on her face at seeing Porthos was obvious, even to Constance. “I wouldn’t have come at all if it hadn’t been important.”

Porthos was surprised but he immediately stepped aside to let her in. Constance got out of the way as well. Flea appeared to hesitate for a moment, lingering on the door-step but then eventually stepped inside. She rubbed her boots against the door-mat and then looked around the hallway as if studying her surroundings.

“What is it?” Porthos asked as he closed the front door.

Flea immediately focused on Porthos again. “I need to talk to you. Something has happened,” she informed him but glanced over at Constance. Porthos understood that she wanted to talk in private.

“We can go to my room?” he suggested which caused Flea to nod. Porthos smiled at Constance to reassure her before he took Flea up the stairs.

Aramis suddenly yelled from the living-room. “Where are you going, you hairy fucker?”

Porthos ignored the vampire but the voice made Flea pause and she looked back down into the hallway. Porthos reached out and took her arm, fingers sliding down until he found her hand which he clasped, trying to settle her.

“Come on,” he whispered and continued to guide her up the stairs.

He took her into his room. It was a mess, he hadn’t been expecting guests. He raced around picking up underwear and trying to pile his empty mugs into one corner of his desk. Flea stood there and watched him, eventually stepping forward.

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse,” she assured him and went over to sit on the bed. Porthos shoved everything into a pile and then grabbed his old desk chair, pulling it over to the bed so he could sit down opposite her. He hadn’t seen Flea for a few months and yet that didn’t matter, he already had a powerful urge to help her. Whatever was going on, he wanted to make it better.

“What’s happened?” he asked immediately. After all this time it must be important for her to have come to see him.

“It’s Charon, Porthos,” she explained, leaning forward, the desperation of her situation evident in her body-language as well as her voice. “He’s missing. As our others. Werewolves have just been vanishing right in front of our eyes.”

“What?” Porthos asked. He wasn’t sure what he was asking but this sudden news was a lot to take in.

“Not just from our pack but from others as well. Over the past few months. We were getting strong, Porthos, the packs were getting bigger and fighting back against the vampires but then people started going missing. Just the odd one or two at first. But now it’s happening more often. We searched for them everywhere but couldn’t find them. And now Charon. Porthos…” She suddenly grabbed Porthos’ hands, squeezing them tightly. “He wouldn’t have run away. Someone took him.”

“Who?” Porthos asked. “Who is taking them? Vampires?”

Flea sighed. She let go of Porthos’ hands and sat up straight. Porthos had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say.

“There are rumours,” she began. “Awful rumours about vampires organising fights for money and entertainment. People say that werewolves are being forced to fight in cages. I dunno how true it is though.”

“That’s…” Porthos paused to try and think of the right word. “…bloody terrible. I’ll help in any way I can but I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know anything about this. I’ve not heard of these fights.”

Flea suddenly changed. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. Something Porthos knew she did when she was about to ask something, usually a favour and he was right. “But you might know a vampire who has?”

“No, no,” Porthos said immediately, sitting back in his chair and feeling defensive. Aramis, of course. Flea knew all about Aramis. When he had told Flea about Aramis saving his life, Flea begged him not to trust the vampire. She said that she knew him by reputation and Porthos had to stay away. Only Porthos didn’t listen because he saw something in Aramis that made him believe not all vampires were evil. “He doesn’t. I mean he knows a lot of things but he left his coven years ago. He won’t know anything about it.”

“You could ask him?” she requested, still sounding hopeful and almost desperate. “If vampires are behind this, he could find out?”

“No,” Porthos said again. “I can’t ask him. He has already done so much recently. He keeps putting himself in danger. I can’t ask him.”

“Porthos!” Flea said and moved forward to grip onto Porthos’ hands again. This time hard, squeezing his fingers tightly. “Charon is missing. They might be planning to put him into one of these fights at the next full-moon. Please, Porthos, he’s not the only one. Hooper, Marq and even Abella.”

“Abella?” Porthos gasped. Abella was young, the youngest female in the Court of Miracles pack. How could anyone have taken her? She was no fighter, she was just a child. Porthos felt torn. He couldn’t ask Aramis to meet Anne again but if this was the difference between life and death for his old friends, did he have a choice?

“Come on,” he eventually said. He had to do something. He left his room and heard Flea following behind as he went back down the stairs and into the living-room. Both the ghost and vampire were lying back on the huge sofa, Aramis chattering away as he tried to explain something to Athos about Star Wars. They both turned their heads when the two of them entered and Aramis immediately sat up, blackness already seeping into his eyes. Damn, he had forgotten how much Flea and Aramis seemed to rub each other up the wrong way.

“Put your fangs away, leech. I’ve not come here to fight,” Flea spat but it did nothing to reassure the vampire because his fangs were soon out and he was hissing.

Porthos attempted to defuse the situation. “Aramis, Flea needs our help. I need your help. Calm down and listen.”

“We’re watching Star Wars,” Aramis said in a huff, folding his arms and turning his head back to the TV screen, which looked a tad ridiculous in his current heightened state.

“No, we’re not,” Athos said, he managed to grab the TV remote before Aramis did and turned the screen off. Aramis gasped and growled at Athos but the ghost wasn’t frightened. “Listen to, Porthos,” Athos encouraged.

Aramis frowned but slowly unfolded his arms. Porthos took that as a sign he could approach and went over, sitting on the foot-stool he faced the black vampire eyes.

“Some of my friends have gone missing, they’ve been kidnapped,” Porthos explained. “And there’s rumours that vampires are behind it, that they’re making werewolves fight in cages.”

The statement seemed to make Aramis flinch and for a split-second, just a split-second, Porthos wondered if Aramis knew. His blood started to boil but then he told himself off for being silly. Even if Aramis did know he wouldn’t be involved.

“Have you heard the rumours?” he asked, trying to be diplomatic and patient with the vampire. He wanted the fangs to disappear after all but Aramis had spent time with both Marsac and Anne recently, perhaps he had heard something. There was silence for a while, Aramis didn’t look at him for a few long seconds but eventually he turned his head back. By that time the fangs were starting to sink away into his gums and his brown eyes had returned.

“It used to happen a long time ago. I don’t know anything about them bringing it back.”

Porthos sighed. He always tried not to think about what Aramis used to be like in the old days and now wasn’t the time to start questioning his past moral judgement either.

“Is there any way you can find out? My friend Charon and others that I care about deeply have been taken.”

Aramis stared at Porthos for a while and then looked over at Flea who was moving towards him.

“A name has come up,” she explained almost frantically. “…Bonnaire. He’s a vampire that used to be slave trader. Now, it seems, he might have gone into kidnapping but I don’t know for sure. All I know are stupid bloody rumours!” She cried out in frustration and spun around, turning away from them. Constance was lingering in the hallway trying not to get involved. She jumped back when Flea suddenly turned in her direction.

Aramis watched Flea and then his gaze fell back onto Porthos, his expression had softened.

“I know Bonnaire. Or at least I did. He’s a complete scum-bag so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was involved somehow but I don’t know how I can help you.”

“You could see Anne again?” Porthos asked hopefully.

The question made Aramis sigh. “Each time I see her I put her at risk. I slept with her Porthos, I had to leave the coven because people were starting to get suspicious.”

“I know,” Porthos said and leaned forward, reaching out he pushed his fingers into Aramis’ hair. “I wouldn’t ask unless I had to. I wouldn’t ever want to put you both at risk unless it was really important.”

“Well I…” Aramis sighed as he looked at Porthos, looked at his friend who he cared about so deeply. “…I suppose I’ll be seeing her again soon anyway when she tells me about…the other thing. So I could ask her then but don’t get too hopeful.”

“We only have a week until the next full-moon,” Flea warned, coming back to move closer again. “That’s when the next round of fighting will be if the rumours are true. We have to find them before then!”

Aramis made a face at her. “I’m not a miracle worker. I can only do what I can.”

Flea marched over to Aramis and grabbed him by the shirt, shaking him furiously as she leaned over him.

“You’d be a lot more desperate if it was your friends though, wouldn’t you?! If it was them being locked into cages and forced to fight and kill each other. Then you’d care. Then you’d get off your pale arse and do something about it, if it was vampires and not werewolves!!”

“Flea!” Pothos warned and tried to drag his friend away. “That’s not fair!” He managed to tug her off. She was a feisty little thing but he could still lift her off the ground if he needed to. He held her in his arms as she wiggled. Porthos couldn’t help but noticed that Aramis hadn’t even attempted to fight back. Porthos appreciated it.

“He said he’ll do what he can and I believe him,” Porthos said as Flea started to calm down, eventually he loosened his hold on her a little. “I’ll come back to the Court with you. We need to get everyone together and make sure that no-one else gets taken.”

It was that which made Aramis suddenly look worried. “You’re going to go?”

“Only for a bit,“ Porthos assured him. “I just want to see how they are all and if there’s anything I can do.”

Aramis let out a little whimper noise which made Athos reach out and placed his hand on Aramis’ arm to stop him from going after Porthos. Porthos and Flea started walking towards the hallway.

“I’ve got my phone on me. Text me if anything comes up and, Athos…”

Porthos looked at Athos and, whilst no words were exchanged between the pair of them, Athos knew exactly what Porthos was asking. Watch Aramis. Athos nodded. Aramis looked between the two of them confused for a moment and then observed as Porthos and Flea disappeared from the house. Aramis immediately sunk down onto the sofa, folded his arms and sulked, muttering something unkind about werewolves although Athos suspected that the insult was only aimed at the young, blonde, pretty, female ones.


	14. Because I fancy Athos

“You’re not going to kiss me again, are you?” Athos asked, nervously eyeballing Aramis as the vampire appeared to be edging closer to him a few minutes after Porthos had left.

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Aramis mumbled and rested his head down on Athos’ shoulder instead. Athos didn’t mind that so much. He could be physical comfort for Aramis temporarily if it was just a head on his shoulder but he had never much been one for movies and movies set in space even less so. He waited patiently for a good ten minutes before trying his luck.

“Aramis, would you mind if I went to fetch a book?”

Aramis immediately lifted his head and glared at the ghost.

“I’m currently reading a book about the rise of the French monarchy,” Athos explained, not intimidated by the glare. “Starting of course with the election of Hugh Capet in 987…”

Aramis interrupted. “Go, just go. I give up trying to educate you.”

Athos looked momentarily apologetic before getting off the sofa and heading out of the room. He could have teleported but it actually drained him whenever he did that and he needed to save his energy for his evening in with Aramis, so he walk instead. He met Constance in the hallway as she was coming out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. She smiled at him. Sometimes they all forgot about Constance who was just always there, always looking after them all. Athos decided that it was about time he started making her feel appreciated.

“You look very beautiful this evening, Constance,” he said which immediately made her blush, her cheeks almost matching the red bow in her curly hair. Athos continued to walk past and went upstairs. Constance was still smiling as she glided into the living-room to find Aramis sulking on the sofa. The sight tugged at her heartstrings a little.

“Are you finding it all a bit much?” she asked, putting her coffee down and going over to sit down beside Aramis on the huge sofa which at least four people could sit on and often did.

Aramis nodded slowly, even though his line of vision didn’t break from Han Solo on the TV screen. “I just want it all to slow-down,” he admitted. “First d’Artagnan, then Marsac and now this. I just wish things were normal again.”

Constance pouted sympathetically and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, stroking the top of his arm slowly. “I’m not sure your life was ever normal, sweetie, but I know what you mean.” She sat quietly for a while just being there with him but she couldn’t stop thinking about Athos and his compliment.

“Athos is a real gentleman, isn’t he?” she said, although it wasn’t really a question, more of a confirmed statement in her mind.

“Well he’s posh so it’s cheating really,” Aramis muttered, still caught up in the movie. “The rest of us have to work harder at learning manners so we should get more credit.”

Constance ignored him because her thoughts were still on the ghost. “And he’s very handsome.”

That was when Aramis sat bolt upright and looked right at her. “You can’t fancy, Athos!”

“Why not?” she asked, frowning at him.

“Because I fancy Athos,” was the response and no more explanation came with it.

“You fancy everyone, so that’s not really fair,” she pointed out.

“He’s a ghost,” Aramis said, still scowling but he was sinking back into the seat again. “You cry every single time you watch that movie.”

Constance knew exactly which movie he was talking about and he was right, she did. Although her thoughts immediately went to a particular scene. “Oh…I should get one of those potter’s wheels.”

“You will not!” Aramis gasped as if her comment had been scandalous. “Not unless I’m invited to join in.”

“Oh, Aramis,” she said with a teasing sigh. “The bench won’t be big enough for the three of us.”

He started tickling her ribs which made her giggle and she tried to push his hands away.

“I thought you were watching the movie!” She cried, trying to get his attention away from her. As if suddenly remembering he stopped the attack and adjusted his position so that his head was on Constance’s lap where she could stroked his hair slowly. She noticed him writing a text message or an email on his phone at one point, which made her a little curious, but then his attention went back to the movie again.

\-----------------------------------

Whilst Porthos had a new home and he didn’t feel guilty for it, there was something about visiting the Court of Miracles which made his heart swell. It was home as well. It was where his childhood memories were set, amongst the streets and sewers of the city. Where people’s toes were cold but hearts were warm. He smiled at everyone as he walked through, greeting old friends and introducing himself to new ones. The court had grown with the homeless and vagabond finding a place to belong amongst the decaying buildings and cardboard shelters. Humans and werewolves alike, living side by side as friends.

“Have any humans been taken?” Porthos asked as Flea led him into one of the old buildings which was set around the edges of the courtyard.

“No, just wolves,” Flea replied. “Which makes me think that it’s someone who can tell which is which, like vampires.”

Porthos nodded. Whilst he didn’t always jump to the conclusion that vampires were the reason behind everything bad that happened in the world, he couldn’t deny the fact that things were certainly pointing towards vampires being the culprits of the recent disappearances.

When he entered the meeting room it felt like he really had come home. A dozen familiar faces greeted him although they looked tired and weary. They were a few half-hearted smiles and hand-shakes, but mostly they just looked like they needed a comfortable bed and a full belly.

“Porthos,” Sebastian said, sliding off a table and going in for a hug. Sebastian was human and an old friend. He had been with Porthos the day the werewolves broke into the court, killing far too many people and leaving some of those still alive to catch the curse. It was the night when Porthos, Charon and Flea’s lives had changed forever.

“The prodigal son returns,” Sebastian teased with a smile. He had grown quite an impressive beard since Porthos had last seen him. It made him look older or perhaps that was could be blamed on the worry lines across his forehead. Porthos couldn’t help but smile back, trying to be cheerful despite the current circumstances.

“Only temporarily,” he pointed out before any of them got hopeful. “I heard about Charon and the others. I’ve come to see if I can help.”

“Any luck?” Flea asked those few gathered. They all shook their heads.

“None,” Sebastian announced. “But that vampire we captured the other day finally gave in after a little bit of persuading. He said that he had heard of the fights but had never been to one. He didn’t know who was running them. I mentioned Bonnaire and he claimed that he didn’t recognise the name. He said we might want to try looking in the direction of King Louis’ coven. Says one of the vampires was bragging about finding a _fun solution_ to the werewolf problem.”

Porthos flinched. That was Aramis’ old coven. He noticed Flea glancing at him before she spoke, “I might have found a way to look in that direction.”

Sebastian and the others turned from Flea to Porthos.

“How?” one of them asked.

“Porthos has a vampire friend,” she announced which shocked Porthos. She had promised him that she’d never mention Aramis to the others because of how they might react. Surely she wouldn’t break her promise now?

“A spy?” Sebastian asked which made Porthos shake his head and he felt forced to speak up.

“No. He’s not in a coven anymore. He doesn’t even drink blood, hasn’t done for years. He has a job and he helps people. He’s not like the others,” Porthos told them, not wanting them to get the wrong impression.

Most of them seemed to nod. They were well aware of the fact some vampires were more evil than others, the same could be said for werewolves after all and humans for that matter.

“But your friend could help us?” someone asked.

Porthos nodded. “He’s going to try but it’ll be hard for him because he’s not welcome there anymore. He might not find anything out.”

“I think he might,” Flea said, butting in with a wink at Porthos. “If his reputation is anything to go by he can charm the pants off the French Prime Minister if he wanted.” Before the others had a chance to ask questions Flea continued which Porthos was grateful for. He didn’t want the others knowing Aramis’ name and Flea had kept it a secret all this time so far. “From now on no-one leaves the court alone. If you have to go out, go out in a group or at least four. I don’t want anyone else disappearing.”

\---------------------------------

“I wish you’d come home,” Flea said an hour later once they were alone together in her room. Porthos was sitting on a crate because he didn’t think that he should sit with her on the bed even though he wasn’t entirely convinced that the crate was strong enough to hold his weight.

Don’t, Porthos thought, don’t do this. “I’m happy where I am,” he told her because it was the truth. She didn’t seem to believe him however and eyed him suspiciously.

“What, living in that crappy house with a couple of mates and working as a hospital porter? That makes you happy?”

“Yes,” Porthos said adamantly. “Because it’s not just a crappy house, it’s my house and they’re not just a couple of mates, they’re my good friends and it’s not just a job, I’m doing something good with my life. I get to chat to kids fighting cancer and sweet-old ladies having cataract operations.” Flea laughed but the laugh didn’t make Porthos lose his confidence. “I know it sounds pathetic but I needed something normal and it makes me feel…normal. Also I owe Aramis my life, you know I do.”

“And you helped him. You said yourself he has been clean for years. Surely you’ve paid your debt off by now?”

“It was never about paying a debt. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Porthos, you can say it you know.”

“Say what?” Porthos asked, genuinely confused.

“You’re in love with him. Don’t give me that bullshit about old ladies with cataracts. You’re in love with the vampire and you can never come back here because you know he won’t be-able to come with you. It’s okay to say it. I hate the pale fucker but I can tell he makes you happy….for some strange reason.”

“Yeah…yeah I do,” Porthos admitted and smiled. Why did saying that feel so good? He wondered. Perhaps because he hadn’t dared say it out loud before.

“You did always have an awful taste in lovers,” she teased with a wink. Insulting herself with that very statement.

Porthos chuckled and then shrugged. “Yeah, well, Aramis and I aren’t lovers. He keeps pulling away from me like he’s scared of something.”

Flea didn’t look surprised. “Well vampires and werewolves are usually mortal enemies which might put a strain on the relationship. Hey…” Flea got up and went to stand over Porthos. She stroked his cheek which made him smile warmly up at her. “You’re the best and you deserve only the best. I hope he realises that.”

Porthos was almost blushing but was saved by the buzzing of his phone. He turned away from Flea and dug it out of his pocket. There was a message from Aramis which read…’She agreed to meet me tomorrow evening. That’s the best I could do. I hope she can help in some way. I miss you.’

The last three words made him feel guilty. He wanted to be back with Aramis but other people needed him more at that moment. He couldn’t help everyone, something he had to sadly come to terms with a long time ago. He relayed the message to Flea, missing out the last part. She nodded before moving to sit on Porthos’ lap which made him chuckle again, especially when the crate started to protest and creak. Flea certainly knew how to make him smile.

“Does that mean you can stay the night?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

He didn’t reply straight away. He wanted to, Flea had always cheered him up but his thoughts were on Aramis. She pressed her finger against his lips before he even had the chance to speak.

“The last few weeks have been stressful. I need some fun. No strings attached.” She took her finger away having said what she needed to say, setting out the boundaries but it still felt wrong to Porthos somehow. Like it would be a betrayal of Aramis, even though he wasn’t technically with Aramis. He didn’t need to speak, she could tell just by his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it. Stay anyway. I promise I’ll behave and not touch you.”

She kissed him on the top of the head and then climbed off his lap, holding out her hand for him to take, which he did. She led him over to the bed and Porthos did feel a twinge of excitement about sharing a bed with her once again. They undressed and Flea curled up against his chest and he held her until she was asleep.

\-----------------------------------

When Porthos tip-toed in the following morning he thought they’d all be in bed so he was surprised to see two bodies on the couch. He worried for a moment until he discovered that it was just Constance and Aramis, curled up together and fast-asleep. Athos had obviously managed to make it to his bedroom. Porthos went over and gently shook poor Constance who looked less than comfortable with her head rolled back over the top of the couch. His concerns were confirmed when she opened her eyes and immediately flinched when she tried to lift her head up.

“Hey,” he whispered softly. “Go and sleep on my bed, you silly thing.”

She seemed too tired to argue and gently moved to slip Aramis’ head off her lap and wobbled out of the room, disappearing up the stairs. Porthos chuckled as he watched her go. She was an absolute sweet-heart the way she cared about them all so much. He was more than willing to let her sleep in his bed whenever she needed to.

That left Aramis, curled up on the sofa and lost in his dreams. Porthos reached out and replayed the conversation with Flea over in his mind. He’d never questioned if they’d make good lovers, he knew that they would. He only wished that Aramis would give it a chance. Without realising what he was doing he found himself kneeling on the rug and stroking Aramis’ hair slowly as the vampire slept.

Then, unable to resist, he leaned forward to press a tender kiss onto Aramis’ lips. He let it linger there probably longer than he should have. He was about to pull away when he felt Aramis move and suddenly a hand was on the back of his neck keeping him there. Porthos mumbled a surprised protest but it was caught in the mouth which was opening in front of him. Realising that Aramis was awake, Porthos felt his heart start to pound furiously in his chest. He’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have but Aramis didn’t seem upset…Aramis was kissing him.

Aramis’ lips felt cold and when an icy tongue probed for entrance into his mouth, Porthos could do nothing but allow it in. Then he found himself moaning and pushing himself up onto the sofa to get closer. As Aramis rolled onto his back, Porthos lay down on top of him. Aramis’ hands were soon all over him, gripping onto his clothes and holding him tight. Unable to quite believe that it was really happening Porthos was far too afraid to pull away or even open his eyes just in case it all stopped and he wouldn’t be-able to do it again.

He just pressed his lips harder against the mouth, claiming it as his own, sucking on that tongue as it explored which made Aramis groan and arch up, pressing his chest right up against Porthos’. Porthos ground down at the same time, rubbing his body up against the one he desired so much. The action made Aramis moan loudly, moans which Porthos caught with his mouth. Whimpers of delight and the sucking of tongues continued until Aramis pulled away and let his head drop back, panting furiously.

Porthos finally dared to open his eyes and he looked down at Aramis beneath him. Aramis’ lips were wet and he looked thoroughly kissed-out. Porthos was frightened for a moment, suddenly worried that he had over-stepped the mark and Aramis would soon realised what had happened and freak out.

Instead, Aramis reached out and grabbed Porthos by the back of the head again. He tugged Porthos down until his lips were beside the werewolf’s ear.

“I can smell her on you,” he whispered. The words made Porthos freeze. Then Aramis let go of his head and started gently pushing Porthos off. Porthos moved to give Aramis the space to get up, falling back onto the sofa and looking at Aramis confused. Was Aramis angry? Jealous? Why had he kissed him?

He got no answers as the vampire sat up and then stood, stretching out his arms and his muscles for a moment just before foot-steps down the stairs and someone singing Wham approached. D’Artagnan came into view in the hallway wearing red checkered pajama bottoms and smiled at them.

“Morning!” he said, far too cheerily for such an early hour, especially since he had been working the evening before. Oh to have the energy of youth, Porthos briefly thought. Neither of them said anything as d’Artganan continued walking and disappeared into the kitchen.

“We should fill him in,” Porthos eventually pointed out, his confusion about the kiss was replaced by thoughts of the kidnappings. “About you seeing Anne tonight and about the werewolf situation. No more secrets, remember?”

“No more secrets,” Aramis agreed and reached for Porthos’ hand. Porthos looked down at the hand and then up at Aramis. Aramis looked vulnerable all of a sudden, his eyes wide as if he desperately needed the touch. So Porthos reached out and accepted the offer, Aramis tugged him up to his feet.

“I’m not angry,” Aramis said quietly, looking up at Porthos. “I understand.”

“But I didn’t…” Porthos was about to explain what had happened when d’Artagnan started yelling something about Aramis eating all the chocolate cereal and suddenly the moment didn’t feel right. Aramis gave Porthos a small smile, squeezed his hand and then disappeared into the kitchen.

Just an hour before Aramis was due to meet Anne, all four men sat in the living-room. The vampire, the werewolf, the ghost and the human.

“I just don’t want you to expect too much,” Aramis was saying, very aware of all of the pressure he had on him from all parties. “She only knows what she knows. There’s really no guarantee she can find out anything about Milady or the missing werewolves.”

They all nodded, they did understand, even though they were all hoping for the best.

“Right,” Aramis said with a sigh as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

He gave d’Artagnan a pat on the shoulder before going out into the hallway to grab his leather jacket. They all watched him go and, the second the door was closed, Porthos stood up.

“Where are you going?” Athos asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

“Gonna go with him.”

Athos frowned. “Why? He told you not to.”

“I know,” Porthos said, moving to head into the hallway himself to put on his boots. “But I just want to make sure he’s okay. I’m just gonna wait outside somewhere.”

Athos pushed himself up from the armchair and stood on the archway, watching Porthos get ready.

“How do you even know where he’s going?”

Porthos decided not to answer that question. He didn’t want to admit out loud to the fact he had look at Aramis’ phone whilst Aramis was having a shower.

“Be back later,” he said with a smile to the ghost before leaving them. Athos sighed and turned to look back at d’Artagnan. The lad just shrugged.


	15. The logic of vampires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Made by Isalen

The welcoming smile Aramis was displaying warmly when Anne came into the café quickly disappeared because he knew straight away that something was wrong. Worry was apparent on her face and the way she hurriedly sat down without even the usual friendly greeting made Aramis fret. However, he tried to appear calm as he sat down opposite.

Only the calmness just lasted a couple of seconds. “What is it?” he asked immediately.

She almost looked pained to have to speak, not able to make eye-contact with Aramis but she did eventually open her mouth.

“I can’t stay for long. You were right, they are kidnapping werewolves,” she said, speaking faster than normal like she was worried someone would stop her. “Not Louis, but someone he’s paying. Someone called Bonnaire. Bonnaire’s team hunt down the werewolves and, every full-moon, there are fights. Werewolves against werewolves, humans and sometimes even vampires. The audience place bets on who they think will win.” She sighed and looked at up Aramis for the first time since she had sat down. She seemed to hesitate for a moment but then she reached out and placed her hand over his. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this news. Is your friend….” She was unable to finish the sentence, she was clearly afraid of the answer.

Aramis, shocked that it was true, managed to shake his head. “No, he’s fine,” he explained. “But some of old pack have been taken. Anne, do you know where these fights happen?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t get this from Louis, I don’t want him to know I’ve been asking questions. I asked one of my maids when she had come back from a feed but she was too high on blood to remember details. She just remembered losing a lot of money.” Anne rolled her eyes, the idea of the fights clearly didn’t sit well on her conscious. “If I can find out anything more I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Aramis said and had no desire to remove her hand. He liked having it there, it felt comforting. “And about the other thing?” He asked curiously.

“I had more success with that,” Anne brightening up a little, obviously pleased to finally be of help. “She’s in France. My friend in the council told me that she has been rather helpful towards vampires recently and may have even formed an alliance with one or two.”

“That’s not good,” Aramis mumbled.

“No,” Anne agreed. “But it does mean that, if you’re looking for her, she’ll be easier to find. We just need to find out which vampires she’s in contact with. I’d put my money on Richelieu being involved somehow.”

“I can’t talk to Richelieu,” Aramis pointed out. “He hates me.”

“Yes,” Anne agreed. “But he’s also easy to manipulate if you give him something he wants.”

Aramis’ head was swimming with all of the information. “This is crazy,” he said with a sigh. “Vampires kidnapping werewolves, vampires teaming up with witches…it’s almost like…I don’t know.”

“Like what?” she asked, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze.

“…like there’s another war coming.”

\---------------------------

Porthos tugged his collar up to try and protect his neck from the icy wind. Then he shoved his cold fingers underneath his armpits in a vain attempt to keep them warm. Even werewolves felt the cold sometimes and it was a particularly chilly night. He wanted to be inside the café which looked ridiculously warm and inviting. In fact Porthos was quite certain that he could smell the hot coffee from where he stood on the other side of the street. Except he couldn’t go inside because Aramis would see him and be angry that he had followed.

So Porthos continued to watch from a distance. He could just about see Aramis from one of the windows and wondered how he was getting on.

He obviously wasn’t destined to have to wait long because, after only twenty minutes or so, he saw Aramis stand up and caught a brief glimpse of Anne as Aramis started walking towards the door. Anne looked pretty and delicate. Porthos felt a twinge of jealousy in his stomach for a brief moment but it was quickly replaced by relief that Aramis was pushing open the door.

Porthos suddenly realised that he’d now have to rush back and get home before Aramis so the vampire wouldn’t realise that he had been followed. Porthos turned to head off when he was stopped in his tracks by the screeching of car-tires. He immediately spun back around, distracted by the noise and immediately noticed a black van coming to a halt right where Aramis had been standing seconds before. Porthos gasped as he heard the side-door of the van swing open.

“Aramis!” Porthos yelled, racing across the road without even looking out for traffic. Once he was on the opposite pavement he could see three men grabbing Aramis and trying to bundle him into the back of the van.

“ARAMIS!” Porthos yelled louder and ran even faster. The men turned at the sound of his cries and looked shocked for a moment. Aramis was putting up a good fight and they were struggling to move him, which gave Porthos just enough time to get there.

Porthos growled and grabbed one of the men, flinging him towards the concrete pavement. Except they weren’t just men, Porthos quickly discovered, they were vampires. The man just rolled back onto his feet and flew into Porthos, crashing into his body which sent Porthos careering towards the van where he collided hard with the metal. The vampire clawed at his face and Porthos tried to protect himself with his hands before eventually managing to push the vampire off and throw him down again.

“Well this a nice surprise,” he heard a voice say and briefly saw a very short looking vampire with a slimy smile climb out of the passenger seat, holding something in his hand. “Two for the price of one. It must be Christmas.”

Porthos barley had time to think before something hit his chest and suddenly he was shaking violently as electricity soured through him. He cried out and fell to the ground, his entire body going into agonising spasms.

\--------------------------

“They should have been back by now,” Athos muttered as he paced the living-room. He had been saying the same thing for the last hour and, quite possibly, the hour before that. D’Artagnan was almost asleep on the sofa but forced himself to strain his neck to look up at the clock on the wall.

“They have been a long time,” d’Artagnan noted. It was gone midnight but that didn’t automatically mean that something bad had happened, he mused and came up with a possibility to suggest. “Maybe Aramis found Porthos and they went out somewhere?”

“They would have told us,” Athos pointed out, still walking up and down on the same section of rug.

“You don’t have a phone.”

“But you do and there’s the house phone.”

D’Artagnan realised that Athos had a point. He glanced over at his phone which was resting on the arm of the sofa and discovered that it still wasn’t flashing to indicate that he had a message.

“Well what can we do?” d’Artagnan asked, trying to be helpful because clearly the ghost was very concerned. “We don’t even know where they went.”

“We need to think logically,” Athos proclaimed and actually stopped pacing. D’Artagnan was too tired to think logically but Athos was a ghost who didn’t need to sleep, so he was happy for Athos to do the logical thinking. “Aramis didn’t take his bike which means he walked. He wouldn’t have walked if it had been too far away. So we can focus on the café’s within five kilometres of the house. Also, he wouldn’t have gone anywhere which was too busy and popular.”

D’Artagnan sighed, listening to Athos. “This is Paris, every other building is a café. That’s still a lot.”

Athos appeared to ignore him, he was waving his arm around. “Get out that thing Aramis has. The little thing with the screen that you press.”

D’Artagnan felt confused for a moment but eventually realised what Athos meant. “His iPad?” He asked but didn’t receive an answer as Athos probably didn’t even know what it was called anyway. D’Artagnan sighed and then pushed himself up. Aramis usually left his iPad in the living-room and it wasn’t long before d’Artagnan spotted it on top of Constances’ fashion magazines. Or at least Aramis said they belonged to Constance, d’Artagnan wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth.

D’Artagnan turned the iPad on and went to look at the map application. He found the café’s within 5 kilometres and discovered that he had been right, there were quite a few.

“We’ll take that thing with us,” Athos announced as he moved to leave. D’Artagnan assumed that he was meant to be following so he did and then they spent the next couple of hours searching around the closed cafes for any sign of their friends. They found no sign at all and, by the time they had been walking around in the dark for a couple of hours, even d’Artagnan was starting to feel anxious.

“We need help,” d’Artagnan suggested, although he didn’t know who they could ask. It was Aramis and Porthos who had all of the connections. D’Artagnan only knew humans and Athos didn’t seem to know anyone. “Should we call Constance?”

“No,” Athos said immediately. “Let’s not worry Constance unless we have to. I think we should speak to Ninon only I only seem able to find her when The Garrison is open.”

“Then there’s not much we can do. Let’s just wait until the morning. Then we’ll know for sure if they’re really missing or just got distracted and are humping in a hotel-room somewhere.”

Athos didn’t seem pleased about the suggestion but he did nod and follow d’Artagnan home. They were both half hoping that the other two weren’t ‘humping’ but would in fact be back in the house by the time they returned. Unfortunately they found the house dark and lifeless.

D’Artagnan ended up sleeping on the sofa underneath a blanket, Athos sitting in the arm-chair. When morning came and still no sign of the other two, it really started to sink in that something had happened.

“What do we do?” d’Artagnan asked, almost in full-blown panic mode. “Should we call Constance now?”

Athos sighed. He didn’t want to worry her but she had known them both longer and might be-able to provide some assistance. So they all agreed to meet at The Garrison the second it opened at 11am.

At 11’o’clock they found themselves all sitting at a table beside the window with Treville occasionally glancing over at them with a slightly confused expression. Constance leaned closer to d’Artagnan and whispered.

“Why is he looking at you like that?”

D’Artagnan looked over at Treville, smiled sweetly and then leaned closer to Constance to whisper back. “I think he’s worried I’m becoming obsessed with this place or he’s just nosey because I’m sitting next to such a beautiful woman.”

He smiled at Constance and received a giggle and a swat on his arm for it. Athos was frowning at the two of them. Ninon was there, sitting in the fourth seat, not that anyone could see her apart from Athos. Communication between the four of them wasn’t going to be easy.

“Portho and Aramis are missing,” he announced to get their attention. “Aramis left yesterday evening to meet up with Anne, the Queen of the Paris coven. Porthos snuck out after him without Aramis’ knowledge. We haven’t seen either of them since. D’Artagnan and I searched the streets last night but to no avail. They’ve just vanished.”

“Like the werewolves?” Constance asked, remembering what that blond one had said when she came to visit Porthos.

“Yes,” Athos nodded. “Except Aramis isn’t a werewolf.”

“No but Aramis isn’t exactly popular amongst his own kind since leaving the coven,” Constance pointed out. “I wouldn’t put it past them to kidnap him at the same time.”

Athos sat back in his chair and sighed. It was what had been on his mind also but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. If the vampires had them…he didn’t even know where to start looking. There was silence between the four of them for a moment until Ninon spoke up, not that the two humans could hear her.

“Which vampires do you think are behind this?”

Athos had to respond as he was the only one who heard the question. “A name has been mentioned. Someone called Bonnaire.”

Ninon looked like she was thinking for a while before she spoke again. “I don’t know a Bonnaire but there does seem to be one person who may know what happened to them both…Anne.”

The two humans were looking confused so Athos decided to pass on what Ninon had been saying.

“Ninon doesn’t know a Bonnaire and is suggesting that Anne is the only person who might be-able to help us.” Both of the humans nodded so Athos turned back to Ninon. “The problem is…we don’t know where Anne is.”

“I do,” Ninon said, looking directly at Athos. Athos wasn’t sure why he felt surprised considering Ninon seemed to know a lot about a lot of things. He was pulled from his thoughts by a figure suddenly appearing beside the table.

“Are you moving in?” Treville asked d’Artagnan but they all looked up.

D’Artagnan swallowed nervously. “No I…I’m just hanging out.”

“Hanging out? This isn’t a bloody youth club. You haven’t even brought a drink!” Treville snapped but moved around the table to sit down. He pulled back the seat Athos was sitting on and Athos darted off it quickly because he hated the feeling he had when a human passed through him.

“What’s going on?” Treville asked, in a way that seemed to imply he didn’t want to know even though he was asking. D’Artagnan glanced up at the now standing Athos and Athos nodded his approval because, what the hell, Treville already knew too much so a little more wouldn’t hurt.

“Aramis and Porthos are missing,” d’Artagnan explained. “Aramis went to visit a vampire, Porthos secretly followed him and we haven’t seen either of them since. We think that some vampires might have kidnapped them. Your ghost might know where the vampires are though.”

Treville remained silent for a while, obviously allowing the information to seep in.

“Your lives are like a supernatural soap opera,” he eventually commented. “What are you planning to do?”

“Well we haven’t quite…come up with a plan yet,” d’Artagnan said blushing, looking around at the others for help.

 “The ghosts are here?” Treville asked, noticing d’Artagnan’s eyes darting around.

“Yes, you almost just sat on one,” D’Artagnan pointed out which seemed to shock Treville and he immediately got up off his chair.

“I’m sorry,” he said to thin air, having no-idea where Athos was. Athos moved around him carefully and then sat back onto the chair. Treville pulled another one across from an empty table nearby and sat back down again in-between d’Artagnan and Athos.

“I know where the Paris coven have their base,” Ninon began. “I could take you to it, maybe she’ll be there.”

Athos repeated Ninon’s words to d’Artagnan who then had to repeat it to Treville. It was all slightly ridiculous but necessary.

“Will the vampires see the ghosts?” Treville asked and Constance was the one who nodded.

“Vampires and ghosts can see each other but vampires can’t hurt ghosts. Well, they can, it’s complicated. Ghosts can feel pain but they can never die. They heal and go back to how they were before.”

“Then let the ghosts go,” Treville suggested, looking at Constance and d’Artagnan. “You two should stay here.”

Athos agreed. “He’s right. We’ll call you if something goes wrong.”

“No,” D’Artagnan suddenly said stubbornly. “No-way. I want to help.”

“Getting yourself killed by vampires won’t be helping,” Athos pointed out and d’Artagnan sighed which, realising that he had been told off by the ghost, stopped Treville from probably saying the same thing.

“They might need back-up and we’ll be here in case that happens,” Treville pointed out, shocking himself with his offer to help as much as it shocked the others.

Athos and Ninon stood. Then, without thinking, Athos looked at Treville and said, “Thank you.”

Without missing a beat Treville responded to Athos with, “You’re welcome.”

Whilst Athos immediately looked confused and d’Artagnan immediately dropped his jaw, it took a few more seconds for what had just happened to sink in with Treville.

\--------------------------------------------

“I am very sorry for dragging you into this,” Athos said as he walked with Ninon, following her to where-ever she was guiding him.

She shrugged and smiled, “What’s being dead without a little adventure?”

Athos was really quite taken with Ninon, not that he’d do anything about it. Having a vampire constantly trying to kiss him was enough physical contact for the moment. Until things were sorted out with his ex-wife the thought of even considering getting close to anyone was completely out of the question. For a start, he was dead and quite convinced that, once Anne had paid for her crimes, he’d be heading off to the afterlife anyway. Although…perhaps Ninon would be there as well. He still had lots of questions to ask about passing over to the next life but he would have to ask them at the right time, which really wasn’t at that moment.

“What are we going to do? I know we can teleport in there but they’ll all see us. How will we get Anne alone?” Athos asked. He liked having a plan and he hated being spontaneous.

“With stealth and charm. You’d better quickly learn the second,” she teased and then grabbed him by the arm, tugging him to a sudden halt. She peeked out around the corner of the brick building they were currently standing beside. “There,” she said.

Athos hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to where they were going and was surprised to discover that they’d reached their destination so soon. He had been expecting the coven headquarters to be a large mansion house out in the countryside, somewhere grand but out-of-the-way. Instead they were still right in the centre of Paris.

He leaned around the corner to look at where she had led him. There was a large dark red brick building in front of them, with a couple of shiny black hearse’s parked around the side. The sign above the door was painted in purple lettering and read ‘House of Bourbon’s Funeral Home’.

“Seriously?” Athos muttered. Out of all the places to hide a vampire coven and be discreet, they had chosen a funeral home?

“I know,” Ninon said with a chuckle. “Vampires aren’t very original. Still, if you need to hide a lot of bodies, it’s the logical business to be in.”

Athos sighed and decided to park the logic of vampires in the back of his mind to analyse another day.

\-------------------------------------------

Porthos woke up to find himself lying on a very uncomfortable floor. He was already groaning in pain before he even tried to move. Every single muscle in his entire body ached and even muscles that he hadn’t been aware of before ached. He let out a bit of a groan before attempting to lift his head. It hurt and he felt dizzy, but he needed to somehow get some awareness of his surroundings. The smell hit him first. He could smell sweat, piss, damp and, apart from that, nothing pleasant. It made him not even want to open his eyes but it wasn’t much of a hardship when he did because it was dark and it took him a while to even see anything. When his eyes did eventually focus it was on iron bars going vertically down. They were thick and heavy.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself as he started to push himself up, eventually getting up onto his knees. His arm hurt and he rubbed at it. It felt like someone had poked him with a big needle. Then everything really started to register. The iron bars were in front and either side of him. Behind him a wall and there were other people, or bodies, in cages to his left and right. He stumbled up onto his feet and staggered forward towards the bars. More cages were in front of him. Looking around he could count around eight of them. It wasn’t long before he noticed someone standing at the front of one of the cages on the opposite side. Porthos immediately recognised the person.

“Charon?” he asked, his voice sounding dry and croaky.

“Welcome back,” his friend said. “We were wondering when you were going to wake up.”

“How long have I been unconscious?” Porthos asked, grabbing the bars to steady himself before he fell over again. He felt groggy, he must have been drugged.

“A few hours I think. It’s hard to tell the time in this place.”

“What is this place?” Porthos asked, looking around the dusky room which had no windows and was only lit by a single gently swinging light-bulb above their heads.

“Hell.”


	16. That’s not even one of his criteria’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Made by Isalen

Athos and Ninon found a side-door to the funeral home which was locked. Thankfully locked doors weren’t a huge problem for ghosts. Although the situation did remind Athos of a question that he had, one of the many he still wished to ask.

“When I teleport myself somewhere, what happens if I end up in a wall?”

“Nothing,” Ninon assured him, before adding. “Unless you panic.”

“What happens if I panic?” Athos asked curiously.

“If I told you then it would make you panic,” she said with a smile. “I’ll teach you more about your different forms another time.” She reached out to hold onto his hand. Athos jumped for a moment, it had been a long time since anyone had held his hand but Ninon smiled encouragingly at him and that made Athos relax. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes to concentrate. When he opened his eyes again he felt a little dizzy but they were both inside. Ninon wouldn’t let go of his hand so he just let her drag him along as they went down a dimly lit corridor.

At the end of the corridor she stopped and peeked around the corner to make sure that the coast was clear.

“How will we even find her?” Athos whispered. “We don’t even know what she looks like.”

Ninon thought about that issue for a moment. “Does Aramis have a type?”

“Yes,” Athos said. “Breathing.” Then he paused for a moment before correcting that statement. “No, wait, that’s not even one of his criteria’s.”

 -----------------------------------

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” Porthos tried to reassure Abelle who was crying quietly in the cage next to his own. The girl with the black curls had curled up in the corner and was holding her blanket around her shivering body tightly. She was only 12 and she looked so small and scared.

Porthos sighed, frustrated with the fact there wasn’t anything more he could do apart from offer reassuring words which felt like lies when he had no-idea what was going on. He stood up again and walked to the front of the cage.

“Charon?” he called. “How often do they come in here to feed us?”

“Twice a day,” Charon informed him. Porthos could barely see his friend in the darkness but the voice came across the quiet room loud and clear. “They barely speak to us and never unlock any of the cages. I’ve tried to think of a way out, but it’s impossible.”

Porthos was inclined to agree but he wouldn’t say that out loud. There were six werewolves in the eight metal cages. He only knew Charon and Abella. He had heard of Vadim by reputation only and the other two he had never met before. His old friends Hooper and Marq were no-where to be seen and neither was Aramis. With the exception of Vadim, they had all been kidnapped since the last full moon and, despite the fact he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, if they were going to escape they needed more details about what would happened once they were finally let out of the locked cages.

“Vadim,” Porthos said, trying to get the man’s attention. He was in a cage furthest away from Porthos and had been very quiet so far. “What happened last full moon?”

There was silence for a while and Porthos wondered if Vadim was asleep but then he heard a voice muttering from the corner of the room.

“They stunned us with something then dragged us out and took us down some steps. I heard the roaring long before we were taken into the room. And when I say room, it was more like a small stadium. There were vampires everywhere, yelling and shouting. There must have been over a hundred, it was like a party…a circus. I was thrown into a cage with another werewolf. I think there were three cages. Three different fights. A vampire stood with a microphone and introduced all of us and then gave the odds. The vampires started placing bets and then some music played loudly and they were all dancing and cheering. By that time I had started to change. I couldn’t do anything, I had no control...”

Vadim stopped talking and Porthos felt very sick. How would they escape from that? A room full of a hundred vampires. Still, he had to keep thinking. He wasn’t just going to give up and let it happen.

“Did you get any sense of where we are?”

“Not really,” Vadim admitted. “It looked like an old factory. The walls looked like they were made of steal and there was a crane above our heads. I don’t remember much else.”

Charon suddenly started asking his own questions. “So, three fights, three winners. What happened to the other two winners?”

Vadim went quiet again for a while again but they all waited patiently. “When I came round the following morning I was still in the cage. I was covered in blood but only had a few cuts and scratches. The other two winners…they were both badly hurt. A vampire went into their cages and shot them both in the head. I don’t think they can be bothered to wait for us to heal again.”

Porthos heard Abella sob loudly and realised that they needed to stop talking about it. In fact he pressed his back up against the metal bars and sank down with a defeated sigh. Charon was right, this was hell. But there was one question still burning in his mind.

“In the fights, was it just werewolves? Were there any vampires?”

“No vampires,” Vadim said. “Just werewolves.”

Porthos felt confused. Then why did they kidnap Aramis and where was he?

\--------------------------------------------

Athos and Ninon had, so far, managed to remain undetected as they explored the funeral parlour. Athos was starting to realise why the vampires had chosen the place as, behind the front rooms which were all nicely decorate for show, the rest of the building was a maze of extra rooms and corridors which stretched back a long way. They had heard many vampire voices but had no-idea how to find the queen or if the queen was even there.

After another turn into another corridor, Athos was starting to wonder if they weren’t just walking in circles. Then they heard from yelling from up ahead. A new voice. It sounded like someone was having a tantrum. Ninon stopped in her tracks and, with her hand still holding onto his, she pulled Athos closer. They had come to a stand-still just a few metres from a door was slightly ajar.

“Why can’t I go?!” came the voice of the disgruntled vampire.

“Because it’s too dangerous. The reason why we have hired Bonnaire is so that you don’t have to get your hands dirty,” came a second voice from a male who sounded remarkably calm in the circumstances.

“But everyone else gets to go! Some of the coven go, I know they do. Why can’t the King?”

“Sire, it’s just not a good idea.”

Athos suddenly felt a wash of emotions flood through him. They hadn’t found the queen but they had found the king. Without thinking he gripped onto Ninon’s hand as they continued to listen in.

“But I can do what I want and you know why I want to go this time, Richelieu. I want to see him being ripped apart by a werewolf.”

“I understand that, your majesty, but I still say it’s not a good idea. We can film it for you.”

“Film it for me?!” There was a loud crash as something went flying into a wall. “I want to kill him with my own hands! He has been trying to seduce my wife again! He always wanted to her and now he’s back to try for a second try.”

Athos could actually hear the other man sigh, his patience clearly being tested. “And that’s why we always have her followed and that’s why we asked Bonnaire to take him. Let other people deal with it. You have more important matters to worry about.”

“Do I? Because it’s very important to me.”

“And it has been dealt with. Bonnaire will make sure that Aramis dies for a second time, permanently this time. He promised me that he will make sure of it. Now come, sire, you’re going to be late. You know how important this meeting is.”

There were a few grumbles from the king before footsteps came towards the door. Ninon pulled Athos harshly away and they ran down the corridor. Ninon stopped outside a random door and nodded at it. Athos nodded back and, understanding her meaning, he closed his eyes and they both transported themselves into the room. Athos felt lightheaded afterwards. He had been using a lot of energy and it was starting to drain him. However, he was soon brought back to his senses by a gasp. A woman was in the room, standing with a book in her hand.

“Please, I’m sorry,” Ninon quickly said, letting go of Athos’ hand and putting it up in an attempt to stop the woman from crying out. “We didn’t mean to alarm you.”

The vampire looked startled at first but then seemed to calm down, tilting her head curiously. There was something very elegant about her despite the fact she looked quite casual in her trousers, boots and blouse.

“You’re ghosts?” she asked, although it didn’t feel like much of a question.

“Yes,” Ninon said and then smiled a little. Athos decided to let her do the talking. She was right, charm wasn’t one of his personality traits after all. “We’re just looking for someone. I’m sorry that we frightened you.”

Athos glanced around the room. It was different to a lot of the rooms they had searched so far. It felt warm and comfortable, perhaps it was the books covering almost every wall and, where there were no books, there were paintings of proud looking people. Most of the paintings were slightly faded with age. Athos suddenly realised why he felt so comfortable in the room; it was a library. A library in a funeral parlour. How very unusual, Athos thought.

“Who are you looking for?” The women asked, still clasping the book in her hand, starting to look a little more suspicious.

Ninon glanced at Athos and Athos knew what she was silently asking. So Athos shrugged and made the decision for her.

“The queen,” he said honestly. The vampire in front of them didn’t even flinch but she did pull her book closer, pressing it against her chest.

“Well you’ve found her.”

The statement shocked them both so much that, for a moment, neither of them said anything. This made the queen look a little more suspicious.

“Why are you here? I need to decide if I’m going to scream.”

“You don’t need to scream,” Athos quickly assured her and took a very small step closer. “We aren’t here to harm you. My name is Athos, a friend of Aramis. We need your help.”

Anne took a step backwards which made Athos decide to stay where he was. He knew that she was a brave woman but he didn’t want to push his luck. “Why?” she asked and quite rightly.

“Aramis has been taken. Kidnapped we think. Porthos as well,” Athos cursed himself for a moment. He didn’t even know if Anne knew who Porthos was so he decided to rewind and start again. “He disappeared after meeting you. Or at least we think he met you because that’s where he was going.”

Anne looked taken back. “Well he was…I mean…he was fine when he left. He went out of the front door and I slipped out of the back,” she informed them both.

“And he hasn’t been seen since,” Athos updated her, letting the information sink in. He waited patiently as Anne processed it all in her head.

“Oh no,” she suddenly gasped and stumbled backwards, reaching out for the arm of the rocking chair which sat in the corner of the room. She fell down onto it. This time Ninon stepped forward and moved closer to Anne.

“Porthos is a werewolf,” Ninon explained, just in case she needed to. “What if, whoever is kidnapping the werewolves, took Aramis as well?”

By the time Anne looked up she had tears in her eyes. “It’s my fault. I knew it was a risk meeting him. What if they had me followed? Louis hates Aramis. He thought the world of Aramis, he loved him but then Aramis suddenly left the coven and Louis has never forgiven him. What if Louis found out I have been secretly seeing him? Oh, Aramis…” She dropped the book and then leaned forward, pressing her face into her open hands.

Ninon moved forward quickly and placed her hand gently on Anne’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is. Aramis asked to see you, remember? He needed your help. But…” She looked over at Athos before continuing. “…we don’t know where they might have taken him. It might be to where these fights take place. Do you know where that is?”

Anne shook his head in her hands and then took a deep breath before sitting up straight again, obviously trying to compose herself. “But I can find out. I will find out. Come on.”

She suddenly got up and walked towards the door. The ghosts had no option but to follow. As they did so Athos felt very exposed but he didn’t want to lose Anne so he just followed her, watching her knee-high boots marching down the corridor. Eventually she opened another door and stepped inside. It was a room full of comfortable red velvet arm-chairs and small rosewood tables, one of which had a chess board sitting on top of it. A drinks cabinet in the corner of the room was covered in glasses and a decanter which Athos at first thought was full of red wine but then he realised that the colour was too dark to be wine. Even so, Athos did admire the interior design.

“Juliette!” She called and a tall dark-haired young vampire with big brown eyes quickly appeared from a doorway to the left, looking confused when she saw the two ghosts.

“Yes, your majesty?” This Juliette responded.

“Where do the werewolf fights happen? Bonnaire owes my two friends a debt and they want to find him.”

Juliette continued to stare at the ghosts but then her attention was back on Anne but didn’t speak. She appeared nervous.

“You will tell me,” Anne insisted. “He is an unpleasant man who has done unpleasant things. In order for these two to pass to the other side, he needs to repay his debt to them.”

“The old dockyard down by the Seine. Just behind Quai Saint Bernard,” Juliette burst out.

“Good,” Anne said. “Tell no-one I asked. I don’t want to warn Bonnaire about this. You must keep this a secret.”

Juliette nodded and Anne turned back to the ghosts. “If you need anything else…” she offered and didn’t need to finish her sentence. Athos nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. He was well aware that Anne had just potentially put herself in great danger because, if they went to rescue Aramis and Porthos, it would only take Juliette telling someone that the Queen had asked for the location...he tried not to think about it. He had a feeling that Anne knew full well the risk she had just taken.

Both Athos and Ninon headed back out into the corridor only they were promptly spotted by a couple of male vampires.

“Oy, what you doing here?!” One of them yelled and Athos decided that they didn’t have time to do charm anymore so grabbed Ninon’s hand and they ran for it. They both had to pass through a couple of walls but they eventually found themselves outside and away from the vampires. Athos leaned forward with and placed his hands onto his knees. His head was spinning. He’d never had to pass through so many objects in such a short space of time before.

Ninon, who was looking as dazed as Athos felt at first, recovered more swiftly and was soon smiling down at him. “We did it. We know where they are.”

She pressed her hands against her corset which made Athos suddenly wonder for a moment how she managed to run so fast wearing such a fancy dress but such details were unimportant.

“We could go and get them?” Ninon suggested, although it appeared she was trying to gage Athos’ thoughts on the matter. Athos stood up as well but he was thinking. If they went to the dockyard and got caught themselves, then the humans would try and rescue them which could potentially go horribly wrong. Also, even if they did manage to free Aramis and Porthos, that still wouldn’t stop the vampires from kidnapping more werewolves for the next full-moon and continuing to run the fights. A plan started to formulate in his head as Ninon patiently waited.

“I have an idea. If it works it might stop these kidnappings from ever happening again. But it’s a little…dramatic.”

“I like dramatic,” Ninon said with a wicked grin.

\-------------------------------------------------

It had been the longest week of Porthos’ life. He hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Aramis and, despite their best attempts, they hadn’t managed to escape either. The bars were too thick and Charon had been right, they never even opened the cages. The vampires just shoved food through the bars and expected them to be satisfied with using buckets in the corner of their cells for other business. Porthos had quickly come to terms with the fact that the only chance they had to break out would be when were collected for the fights. At least then the vampires would have to unlock the cages.

That night eventually reared its terrifying head and a gang of vampires stormed into the room. Porthos stood up ready as did all of the others. The room was immediately thick with tension, even the vampires looked a little nervous.

Porthos waited.

There were only a dozen vampires, it would be possible to overwhelm them enough to at least get out of the room. What was on the other side, Porthos didn’t really know but he was desperate to try something. He couldn’t just let the fights happen.

The vampires all spread out in the room, facing into some of the cages. There were two vampires staring at Porthos; both big and well built. Porthos continued to wait. He knew that Charon, Vadim and the others were doing the same. He watched the vampires and anticipated that keys would soon be produced.

One of the vampires at Porthos’ cage did get something out of his leather jacket but it wasn’t a key. It looked like…a gun. Porthos gasped and stepped back but immediately something shot out and he was shaking violently again. He tried to grab the wires of the stun-gun and tug them away as he fell to the ground but the muscles of his arm wouldn’t co-operate. Just when he stopped shaking and the violent pain started to disappear leaving him aching, it suddenly started all over again.

When he began to come round it was the noise which brought him to his senses. The roaring of excited voices getting louder as two strong arms tugged beneath his armpits. His feet were being dragged along the ground and he could smell vampires. He tried to open his eyes but everything was a blur and then suddenly it was bright, so bright that he had to shut his eyes completely again. Everything was disorientating and the roar of the crowd became even more thunderous and overwhelming. He didn’t have the power to fight so he had to let himself be hauled along until he was thrown to the ground. His chin connected with the hard floor and it jarred his jaw. He groaned and tried to move, somewhere amongst the noise he heard the heavy clang of another cage door being shut.

He attempted to push himself up, his arms wobbled but he managed to sit up and then he blinked his eyes open once again. The first thing he saw was thick metal bars and then his eyes came into focus enough that he could also see the faces behind the bars, everywhere, jeering and taunting. Fists raised in fury and exhilaration. The noise…the noise was too much, it was making his sensitive ears ring.

He continued to push his aching arms until he was up onto his knees. There he swayed, still feeling bewildered and dizzy. Then a voice, a clear voice came through above the baying of the crowd. It was bellowing through speakers and it made the gathered vampires quieten down.

“Ladies, gentlemen, murders and sinners, do I have a night for you!”

The crowd cheered and Porthos was finally able to look around to take in his surroundings. Vadim had been right, it was a warehouse of sorts, perhaps an old factory. There was a large metal crane over their heads with hoops hanging down from it. A female vampire dressed in a sparkly silver outfit was swinging around on the hoop above Porthos’ head. And a balcony around the edge of the steal walls, covered in vampires wearing all sorts of elaborate outfits; corsets, leather and colours. A fire-breather blew flames out above the head of the audience down below. The cage Porthos was in was raised a little, the vampires standing around the pit were lower that he was.

“As the full moon approaches, the fighting will start!”

The crowd roared again and Porthos tried to decipher who was speaking. Eventually he saw a vampire standing on a platform at the same height as his cage but down at the other end of the hall. It was the same man who had kidnapped him. The short man with the greased-back hair and pruned moustache. He was wearing white and gold suit. Porthos decided that he looked like an arsehole so it must be Bonnaire.

“I’m afraid tonight I don’t have three fights for you.”

Bonnaire pouted and the crowd did indeed ‘boo’. But then he laughed and waved their disappointment away.

“No, because the fights I have for you are very special. Oh yes, you will remember this night for the rest of your immortal lives!”

The crowd was cheering again and Porthos sighed. This was it then. There was no-way he could get out. The bars of the cage were too thick. But, hold on, Porthos looked around suddenly. He was alone in the cage. Where was his opponent? He spotted another cage across the crowd a good twenty metres away. Charon and Vadim were in there, both struggling to get to their feet.

“For in cage one we have the only survivor from the last full moon and the leader of the Versailles pack against Charon, the leader of the Court of Miracles!”

A roar from the vampires was only drowned out by rock music blasting out of the speakers for a few seconds. Porthos started getting to his feet as well but then a spasm of pain shot down his back. No, not yet, he couldn’t be changing already.

“And if that fight, a duel against leaders, doesn’t make you orgasm hard enough in the centre cage…” Bonnaire continued. “…in the centre cage we really have something quite special. My fellow blood-suckers, in the main cage tonight we have one of the strongest werewolves I have ever seen.”

Porthos frowned. The dickhead didn’t even know his goddamn name.

“And his opponent is someone who you all know. But, don’t be shocked, don’t be surprised…for he has betrayed you.”

Suddenly a silence descended over the crowd. There were all looking at Bonnaire, as was Porthos. He reached out and held onto one of the bars, his fingers gripping tightly.

“Yes, after running away from his own kind years ago, a coward’s move because you once all loved him, he recently came back for one purpose and one purpose only...” Bonniare paused for dramatic purposes and Porthos hissed. No, he couldn’t be talking about…no. “…to seduce your queen. Ladies and gentleman I give you the deserter, the traitor, your very own Judas…I give you….Aramis.”

Silence descended on the room apart from a few gasps. The only thing which could be heard was a voice cursing and shouting from somewhere. A voice which Porthos recognised immediately belonging to Aramis. He saw the vampires pulling Aramis across the room. He had a black bag over his head and he was kicking and trying to desperately fight against the vampires who were dragging him along towards the cage.

“Get off me! You can’t do this!” he was screaming from underneath the hood. Porthos’ heart sunk. No, no not this.


	17. I've had my life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Warning - I don't know how necessary it is to put a violence warning in a story about vampires and werewolves but here's one anyway. There will be blood and lots of it.]

Porthos was unable get to the swinging door of the iron cage in time because his limbs still wouldn’t co-operate fully although he wasn’t sure what he could have done anyway; they were in a room full of over-excited vampires thirsting for violence. However, after Aramis was thrown in, Porthos managed to stagger across before falling forward to his knees. He tugged the bag off Aramis’ head to discover a very angry looking vampire underneath but the moment Aramis saw Porthos the furious face disappeared and he suddenly looked grateful.

“Porthos,” he gasped and reached out for him. Porthos wrapped his arms around the vampire and pulled him close, holding him tightly against his chest.

Bonnaire was busy calling out betting odds and the crowd started to find their voices again after their initial shock at Aramis being a part of the show. Porthos wasn’t surprised that the loyalty of vampires was fickle. Porthos allowed himself a moment of just holding Aramis after a week of worry, until Aramis pushed at Porthos’ chest and moved away, looking up at the werewolf.

“I am so sorry,” he said, his eyes now turning wide and frightened.

“What you sorry for?” Porthos asked. Aramis had only seen Anne because Porthos had asked him to and they were kidnapping werewolves, not vampires. Porthos figured that it was him that needed to be sorry. But, before he could say so, Aramis had scrambled up onto his feet and he jumped towards the bars, trying to shake them furiously.

“Bonnaire, stop this!” He screamed. “This is barbaric!”

No-one was listening to him so Aramis scanned the crowd until he saw someone he recognised.

“Nicolas, you have to stop this. You can be better than this. We don’t have to be monsters.”

The tall skinny vampire did turn to look at Aramis but then spat at the cage.

“Fucking traitor,” he hissed and then other vampires joined in, sneering at Aramis and calling him names. Aramis sighed, slowly relaxing his fingers and letting go of the bars. He stumbled backwards and turned to face Porthos just as a brutal burst of pain hit the werewolf. Porthos growled through it but somehow managed to stay on his feet and not keel over.

Bonnaire’s voice was suddenly back in the room, loud and clear over the speakers.

“I hear that none of you believe Aramis will survive. So, let’s even up the odds a little, someone give him a knife.”

Nothing happened for a couple of minutes but then a switchblade with a brown handle was pushed between the bars and it slid across the concrete floor of the cage. Both Porthos and Aramis looked down at it.

“Now, even so, the werewolf is still four-to-one favourite. Keep placing your bets!”

Aramis continued to stare down at the weapon but didn’t make a move to get it.

“Take it,” Porthos found himself requesting. “Please. I won’t be-able to stop myself.”

“I know,” Aramis said, almost calmly, leaning back against the iron bars. He looked down and started folding up the sleeves of his black shirt.

“I mean it!” Porthos found himself having to raise his voice over the noise of the crowd and the music which was now booming from the speakers. “When I’ve changed, I won’t be me. I won’t be-able to stop myself from hurting you.”

Aramis nodded as he continued to fold his shirt sleeves. Once he was done he finally lifted his head and stared at Porthos. “I know,” he repeated again evenly.

“You don’t understand,” Porthos insisted. He marched over and bent down to pick up the switchblade. He gripped it in his hand and carried it over to Aramis, holding it out to the vampire. “Use it on me.”

Aramis shook his head but didn’t say anything, he didn’t reach out for the weapon either. So Porthos stepped closer and pressed the side of the cold blade up against Aramis’ shirt. “Please,” he pleaded, his voice starting to shake with desperation. “Please take it.”

Aramis still didn’t move but he was staring up at Porthos. Porthos tried to push the knife harder into Aramis’ chest without hurting him, but Aramis refused to take it. Another wave of pain suddenly hit Porthos and it made his arms spasm. He accidentally dropped the blade which clattered to the ground and bounced away. Porthos reached out to grip onto Aramis’ shirt and then the vampire finally moved; to grab Porthos’ elbows and hold him up.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Porthos said, unable to stop his eyes from filling with tears. “I wouldn’t be-able to live with myself.”

“I know,” Aramis said and then Porthos lost it. He let go of the shirt briefly to thump Aramis in the chest with his fist.

“For fucks sake, stop saying I know!”

The punch shocked Aramis although it didn’t hurt him. He just gripped onto Porthos’ elbows harder and tilted his head slightly as he looked right into Porthos’ eyes.

“Listen to me, Porthos,” Aramis began. “I have already lived for a very long time. I’ve had my life. You still need to have yours.”

“No,” Porthos whispered and, when he blinked, some of the tears leaked down his cheeks. He couldn’t look at Aramis anymore. He wanted Aramis to stab him in the chest with that knife. He wanted Aramis to survive.

“Yes,” Aramis responded, trying to get Porthos to look at him again by letting go of his elbows and grabbing his face instead. The noise of the crowd seemed ever so distant now, all Porthos could hear in his ears was the loud thudding of his heart and Aramis’ voice. “Please, Porthos. Let this be my decision.”

“No!” Porthos yelled again and pushed at Aramis’ to get away. He stumbled over to the knife again. He was changing, he could feel his bones starting to contort. Not yet, please not yet. He just about managed to bend down and pick up the weapon once more before turning back to Aramis.

“It wouldn’t be a life if I knew that I’d killed you,” Porthos explained, waving the weapon around, trying desperately to get Aramis to take it. He was feeling so frustrated that the vampire continued to refuse. He was weeping, he couldn’t help it. His chest heaved, his body hurt because he was about to kill the man that he loved.

“Yes it will,” Aramis said adamantly. “The others will come and get you out of here. Then you have to look after Athos, Constance and d’Artagnan. Help Athos pass to the other side, help d’Artagnan avenge his father and set Constance up with a nice man who isn’t dead.”

The last request almost got a laugh from Porthos but it actually came out as a pathetic sob.

“Please…” Aramis continued as a single tear rolled down his cheek and lingered at the side of his mouth. “…please, for me. You have no-idea the things I’ve done. I don’t even deserve to live. Let me do one good thing before I go. Let me sacrifice myself so you can live. Please…please.”

He lunged forward, not for the knife but for Porthos. He wrapped his arms around Porthos’ waist and gripped onto him tightly. Porthos dropped the blade again and flung his arms around the vampire.

\------------------------------

“Constance!” d’Artagnan screamed and then reached out to grab onto the dashboard but it was too late, his elbow had already slammed into the side of the cab and he was quite certain that it would bruise.

“What?!” Constance screamed back, the frantic panic as clear in her voice was it was in his.

D’Artagnan looked at the silver car as they sped past it, the man in the driver’s seat almost had steam coming out of his ears.

“We might be in a big truck but you still have to obey road-rules!” d’Artagnan explained. So far on the journey had had seen his short life flash before his eyes at least five times.

“We have to get there!” Constance snapped, very busy staring out of the windscreen as her fingers gripped tightly onto the large steering-wheel.

“Yes, in one piece!” D’Artagnan requested and then sighed, sitting back in his seat a little and rubbing his sore elbow. He heard banging coming from behind them and it made him shiver. “Do you think this is going to work?” he asked, trying to sound calm and not nervous, even though he was quite terrified.

“Well it had better work, hadn’t it?” was the response he got from the driver and d’Artagnan nodded because Constance was right, they had waited a whole week to pull off the plan, the plan had to work.

“And they won’t kill each other before we even get there?”

“Well that’s why I’m driving fast!” Constance yelled and d’Artagnan had to grip on again for dear life as Constance didn’t even seem to slow down before taking a turning. D’Artagnan could have sworn the truck tilted up onto two wheels.

\----------------------------

“Do you remember the day we first met?” Aramis asked evenly. Porthos was desperately trying to hold back the change even though he knew it was impossible. The muscles in his chest were expanding and pushing at the fabric of his T-shirt. He was on his hands and knees, Aramis was sitting calmly crossed-legged just a couple of metres in front of him. Porthos managed to nod. Of course he remembered that day, it was the day which changed his life.

“I was going to walk past,” Aramis suddenly admitted. It was something he had never told Porthos before. “I didn’t want to get involved. I told myself that it wasn’t my business and who really cares if another werewolf gets killed?”

Porthos tried to listen, his fingers scratching at the ground as they grew and stretched.

“But then I heard the names they were calling you as they hit you with the crowbars…” Aramis continued. “…cruel names, nasty names and I realised that vampires were no different to common playground bullies.” Aramis sighed loudly before he continued. “I know that vampires hate werewolves because we think you’re all uncivilised animals and we can’t drink your blood and werewolves hate vampires because you think we’re all cruel and murderous. But, mostly, werewolves and vampires hate each other because we’re taught that’s just what you do.”

Porthos had to bite hard onto his bottom lip to stop himself from screaming out as another wave of pain cannon-balled through his body but he could hear every word Aramis was saying.

“So when I saw you in that alleyway being attacked by the vampires, I thought about how stupid it all was. Holding onto the past so tightly that the pain in our fingers is clouding the logic of our minds. Hate and a warped sense of justice has replaced understanding and love.”

The werewolf had no-idea what Aramis was waffling on about but he appreciated the calm voice all the same.

“So I turned into the alleyway and I decided to take one small step for man and one giant leap for vampires.” Aramis sighed again and looked outside the cage at all the vampires laughing with each other and waiting with excited anticipation. “It’s a shame that the others enjoy being playground bullies so much.”

“I…” Porthos tried to speak but he was losing the ability. Only he was determined to say one last thing before it all ended. “…I appreciate what you….did.” He managed to say with a lot of effort. Especially when his neck was starting to crack and change. “I love you,” he also quickly blurted out. He wanted that to be the last thing Aramis heard from him.

There was silence in the cage for a while until he heard Aramis saying, “I love you too. I’m sorry I never told you before. I was just so afraid of what it meant.”

Porthos let out a final sob and then screamed in pain until the scream turned into a howl.

\------------------------------------------

“There, look!” D’Artagnan yelled and pointed to where he could see Athos and Ninon waiting at the side of a very sizeable looking building. They had been driving around the dockyard for a while so to see the ghosts brought a great sense of relief. The noises in the back of the truck were starting to terrify d’Artagnan because, if they all killed each other before they even got there….he didn’t even want to think about it.

When they drove closer to the ghosts they noticed that Athos was spinning his finger around and Constance understood his meaning instantly. She did a quick U-turn with the truck, which almost made d’Artagnan thrown-up, and then backed up towards the building. She could see Athos in her side-mirror guiding the back of the truck right up against one of the warehouse door’s. He put his hand up once he wanted her to stop and then sprinted down the side of the truck to greet them.

“Well done,” he said as Constance swung the cab door open. She smiled at him and then slid out, falling into his arms. D’Artagnan got out by himself the other side and then rushed around to join them both.

“Have you been inside?” Constance asked as they all raced towards the back of the vehicle.

“We tried,” Athos admitted. “But there’s a lot of vampires. I hope this works.”

He walked over to where Ninon was holding a control box with two buttons in her hand. D’Artagnan watched as she pressed one of the buttons and, after some initial creaking of metal, the automatic door of the warehouse started to move upwards and open.

“Get to the other side,“ Athos told d’Artagnan and so the human quickly sprinted around the front of the truck again towards the opposite side. His arms were shaking as he grabbed the lever at the back.

They all waited for the warehouse door to be completely open then Athos let out a loud sigh and nodded at d’Artagnan. They both pulled the levers at the same time and tugged open the back of the truck. The first thing d’Artagnan heard was snarling and growling. It made goose-bumps form all over his body. It did sound like they were fighting but then he heard a chorus howls before a rampage of loud heavy feet started running across the truck. He gripped onto the lever tightly and hoped that the door he was hiding behind would provide him with enough protection. The vehicle seemed to shake as the werewolves jumped off the back and disappeared inside the building.

Soon there was silence and all d’Artagnan could hear was the sound of his own frantic breathing.

“Get into the front of the cab,” Athos ordered from the other side. “I do not want you two anywhere near what’s about to happen.”

D’Artagnan knew immediately who Athos was talking to so he did was he was told and climbed back up into the truck, Constance joined him and they both locked the doors from the inside.

Still standing outside Athos and Ninon were soon facing each other.

“Remember what I said,” Ninon was saying, her hand coming up to rest on his collarbone.

It made Athos nod. “I can still feel pain, I know.”

“What you’ll see in there will be hideously unpleasant,” Ninon warned him. “You don’t have to go in, I can do it by myself.”

Athos shook his head furiously. “No, this was my idea and we both need to find Aramis if he’s in there.”

“You’re right, but they can still hurt you. You need to be careful.”

“I will,” Athos promised. “I was with Porthos once when he changed and he didn’t even seem to acknowledge my existence.”

“Yes, werewolves don’t tend to feel threatened by ghosts but vampires will hurt anyone and they’ll be panicking. So just be careful, okay?”

She suddenly stepped forward and pressed her lips against his. Athos was shocked but he found himself unable to stop her, instead he just closed his eyes. She started rubbing her lips against his mouth, kissing him hungrily. He opened his own lips a little and accepted it, kissing her back until she pulled away, an unusually shy smile on her face.

“Come on then, handsome,” she said and grabbed his hand.

Inside the cab d’Artagnan wondered what Constance was staring at as she watched in the side-mirror. Then he wondered why it was making her look so sad.

\-----------------------------------------

Aramis grabbed at his chest with his right hand and staggered backwards. His spine eventually connected forcefully with the metal bars which made him cry out in shock and pain. He tried to slide slowly to the ground but eventually just fell in a heap, his fingers desperately trying to stop the blood which was oozing out of the messy gash across his chest but the wound was too deep and too large; there was nothing he could do. His leg throbbed as well, it was the part which Porthos had attacked first, sinking his teeth into the vampire flesh and biting off a chunk of muscle. Aramis had tried to get away for the first few minutes but then gave up deciding that perhaps the faster it was over and done with the better.

Porthos...no the wolf snarled. He towered over Aramis in the cage looking dark, majestic and utterly terrifying. It’s not Porthos, Aramis kept on trying to tell himself, it’s not Porthos. That thing killing you isn’t Porthos. The worst thing about it was that Aramis knew he wouldn’t even die quickly unless Porthos started ripping limbs off.

“Please...” he begged, the pain was so excruciating that he was even willing to try and reason with a werewolf. “...please, just kill me.”

His body was starting to shut down and his head was slowly dropping towards his chest when, suddenly, something caught his attention. The yelling of the crowd changed from triumphant sounds of entertainment to something else.  The vampires were screaming…in terror.

Aramis slowly turned his head and looked out across the room. Vampires were running and scrambling to get away, pushing each other to the side and panicking. What was happening? Aramis gasped and twisted despite his agony to grip onto the bars and watch. The vampires were swarming towards the doors and it didn’t take long for Aramis to discover why; there were werewolves in the room, jumping at them and attacking them. More wolves poured through the back of the factory until there was almost a dozen amongst the crowd.

Some of the vampires soon stopped running and started attacking the beasts. Aramis watched one werewolf being overwhelmed by vampires biting and scratching and trying to kill the wolf. But most of the vampires were just attempting to flee only none of them seemed to be escaping. Aramis continued to watch despite his horror and noticed a whole group of vampires desperately trying to open a thick fire-door but it was locked. They were kicking and pulling at it but it wouldn’t open. They were all locked in. Just as Aramis tried to process what was happened he felt sharp nails ripping through his spine. He arched his back and cried out in pain.

\---------------------------

“I can see him! He’s in the cage with Porthos!” Athos yelled as they stood amongst the chaos and carnage of the room. Pieces of vampire bodies were already lying across the floor where they had been thrown about by the rampaging werewolves. Blood was smeared everywhere over the concrete. There was a lot of noise and a lot of pandemonium yet Athos knew what Porthos looked like, even in werewolf form and, once he had spotted Porthos, it had only taken him a second to notice that Aramis was with him. The sight of them both in the cage together was chilling but Athos knew that he had to keep a level head.

“Go,” Ninon said and pushed Athos forward. “Get Aramis out. Porthos will be safer if he stays in the cage.”

Athos turned to Ninon utterly confused. “How do I get him out? We need a key.”

“No you don’t,” Ninon shook her head furiously. “You can teleport with Aramis because he’s dead.”

“I…I don’t know how…” Athos admitted, trying to hold back the panic he felt inside. “You do it.”

“Athos!” She stepped forward and pushed him again, harder this time. Athos had to stagger backwards to keep his balance. “Go!”

Athos soon figured out why, some vampires were running at them, their faces full of confused fury. They probably didn’t even understand why ghosts were in the room but they were too hyped up to think straight. Ninon managed to get their attention and they chased after her as she ran away, leaving Athos free to get to the cage.

Athos dashed across the room and then climbed up onto the platform, peering inside. Aramis was lying face-first on the ground and Porthos, or at least the wolf version, was currently ignoring him. The large beast was shaking at the bars trying to escape. Athos knew that he had no time to even stop and think, so he closed his eyes and concentrated hard. The next thing he knew he was opening his eyes and he was inside the cage. Trying not to get the attention of the werewolf he crept over to Aramis and knelt on the ground beside the still body. The shirt on Aramis’ back was torn and Athos could immediately see deep lacerations in his pale skin.

“Oh, Aramis,” he sighed and then looked around, trying to spot Ninon. How did he do this? He was afraid to even having to attempt it but he knew that he didn’t have a choice, he had to get Aramis out of the cage. So he tugged at the unconscious vampire to get a good grip on him, until the Aramis flopped over onto Athos’ lap. Aramis’ head hung backwards and he looked lifeless. Athos tried not to let that distract him as he held onto Aramis tightly before closing his eyes again, imagining himself back outside the cage.

“Please let this work,” he whispered just before he felt dizzy and collapsed sideways onto the floor. He tried to move but he felt so incredibly drained that he struggled to even open his eyes. Once he finally managed it he could only see light at first but then blurred figures started to rush past his sight and he heard screams and growls again. He pushed himself back up, his head spinning and felt Aramis’ body still against his legs. When everything eventually came back into focus he realised that they were down in the pit. He had done it, they were out of the cage! Only he was too exhausted to move let alone teleport with Aramis again. Athos looked around in desperation but he couldn’t see Ninon anywhere.

A loud howl coming from behind him got his attention and he just knew that he had to get Aramis out, whatever it took. So he decided that he would have to carry the vampire instead.

\---------------------------------

Constance and d’Artagnan both sat in silence for what felt like forever. They couldn’t hear anything from within the cab of the truck. The only noise which eventually came was quiet sobbing. D’Artagnan turned and noticed that Constance was crying. He moved closer in his seat and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his chest where he let her cry as much as she needed to.

They were only brought out of their embrace by a banging on the door which made them both jump. Constance immediately pushed away from d’Artagnan and looked out of the window. She saw Athos standing there barely holding up a very badly injured Aramis. Constance gasped and pushed the door open, nearly knocking Athos and Aramis flying in her enthusiasm.

“You found him!” she exclaimed, just as Athos finally dropped Aramis but Constance was there to help catch him before he fell to the ground.

“He’s badly injured,” Athos pointed out, perhaps unnecessarily. “Let’s get him into the back of the truck.”

This they did easily with all three of them helping. The truck was empty apart from ripped discarded clothes which belonged to the Court of Miracles werewolves. D’Artagnan made a bit of a pile from the clothes and they both lay Aramis down onto his back.

“He’ll live right?” D’Artagnan asked anxiously. “I mean he’s a vampire, so he won’t die will he?”

“I don’t know,” Athos admitted but Constance seemed to have a better understanding of the situation.

“He needs blood,” she explained to the other two, stroking some of Aramis’ curls away from his pale face. “Vampires need new blood to heal. Otherwise I think he’ll stay like this.”

There was a silence amongst them all for a moment before d’Artagnan spoke up.

“Constance and I have blood.”

“No,” Athos immediately snapped. “That’s not a good idea. Anyway he’s unconscious, how would he drink your blood? We need to go to the hospital, get some blood from there and one of those tubes they stick down into people’s stomachs. Constance, would that work?”

She shrugged a little. “I don’t know. I guess blood is blood and we have to try something.”

Athos nodded. “We’ll take him home and then I’ll go to the hospital but I need to find Ninon first. We can’t leave Porthos on his own. Wait here.”

And, what that, Athos hurried out for the truck again and disappeared, leaving the two humans to look after the unconscious vampire.

Athos eventually found Ninon unharmed. The fighting had died down now that most of the vampires were dead with just a handful finding elaborate ways of escaping the warehouse. Athos saw one scaling up the wall and breaking a tiny window at the top, somehow managing to squeeze through the gap. However, the lack of vampires now left a bunch of growling werewolves. Ninon had been trying to guide them into various different areas of the factory to stop them from killing each other. So far she had been quite successful, shutting them away in various different rooms.

“You go,” she said once Athos explained the situation. “I’ll stay here and watch over Porthos. I still want to try and make sure the werewolves are separated as much as possible. They won’t kill each other if they don’t feel threatened.”

Athos nodded and marveled at what an amazing ghost Ninon really was. He stole another kiss before leaving Ninon in the warehouse to go back out to the truck where Constance was already in the driver’s seat waiting.

They drove home and parked the large vehicle as close to the house as they could get it. Then the two men carried the unconscious vampire up to his bedroom and placed him down gently on the bed. Constance carefully removed his torn shirt and tried to control her trembling hands as her actions revealed a series of deep gashes and wounds. D’Artagnan had to turn away because it was making his stomach churn. Athos placed a reassuring hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze, before going over to Constance and assisting her. Eventually Aramis was down to his trousers.

“He needs blood,” she said with a shaky whisper. “We need to go to the hospital.”

Athos nodded, “I’ll go now.”

“I’ll come with you,” Constance suggested.

“They’ll see you.”

“Athos, it’s a hospital, it won’t matter. It’ll look far more strange two litres of blood floating around in mid-air. At least I can hide it underneath my coat. You break in, get the stuff and I’ll drive.”

Athos nodded but then had a thought. “Will d’Artagnan be alright with Aramis?”

“Yes,” Constance said and then smiled at her fellow human. “I have complete faith in him.”

D’Artagnan blushed before standing up a little taller and telling himself off silently for being a wuss.

Constance and Athos soon disappeared from the house and d’Artagnan was left in the room which suddenly felt very quiet.

“Stop being a wimp,” he whispered to himself after a while. Aramis looked a mess, so d’Artagnan decided that the least he could do was clean the vampire up a little.

So he went to fetch the washing-up bowl and filled it with luke-warm water. Then he brought it up to the bedroom carefully with a flannel. He perched at the edge of the bed and started wiping away some of the blood gently, being cautious of the injuries.

After a few minutes, when the dried blood was off his chest at least, D’Artagnan heard a groan and looked down at the vampire’s face.

“Porthos...” came a quiet whisper.

“No,” D’Artagnan corrected him. “It’s me but Porthos is safe.” He wasn’t entirely sure that was true but he didn’t want to worry the vampire.

“D’Artag...” he tried to say the name but didn’t quite manage to finish it. Aramis’ eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he was grimacing with the pain.

“Yes, it’s me. You’re okay. We got you out.”

Aramis started blinking but his eyes were unable to focus on the human. So, instead, he tried to move but it made him whimper.

“Keep still,” D’Artagnan encouraging, pressing down gently on the vampire’s shoulder.

“I n-need...b-blood,” Aramis stuttered weakly, his head slowly turned and he was finally looking at d’Artagnan.

“I know. They’ve gone to get you some from the hospital.”

“No,” Aramis tried to shake his head but barely managed it. “Won’t be...good enough...” he wheezed. “Need...f-fresh blood.”

D’Artagnan paused and continued to stare down at him. Seeing the deep gaping wounds made him feel queasy again so he pulled at the blanket to cover up Aramis’ chest. But he knew they were bad, very bad. If Aramis had been human then he would be dead. Aramis had done so much for him, d’Artagnan knew that. Taken him in, tried to help him find Milady. He had done so much. In fact it was meeting Anne which had led to the kidnapping in the first place. D’Artagnan owed him big-time.

So D’Artagnan moved back and pulled his jumper up over his head, removing his T-shirt at the same time.

“You can have some of mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I seem to have made Athos the one all the women fancy in this story and right so.]


	18. You will be-able to stop yourself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Made by Isalen

D’Artagnan carefully climbed across the bed and lowered himself down onto Aramis’ body to give the vampire easy access to his neck. Aramis was always cold but the skin pressing against d’Artagnan’s chest felt distressingly freezing.

Aramis’ hand shook as he reached out and started rubbing up and down d’Artagnan’s bare arm slowly and, despite his fingers feeling like ice, it did encourage d’Artagnan to relax. He knew it was going to hurt but he was willing to take the pain. Although there was something he wanted to check first.

“You will be-able to stop yourself, won’t you?” he asked, looking down at the pale vampire beneath him. “You won’t take too much?”

Aramis managed one weak nod then the vampire’s fingers slowly stroked all the way up his arm, over his shoulder and curled around the back of his neck.

“Just r-relax,” Aramis whispered in a very faint voice.

He tugged d’Artagnan’s head down. D’Artagnan thought that he was going to bite him straight away only he didn’t. Much to the human’s surprise, Aramis pulled d’Artagnan’s lips against his own.

D’Artagnan closed his eyes but felt confused, why was Aramis kissing him? Within seconds of Aramis rubbing their lips together d’Artagnan suddenly felt giddy, like he was floating away from the bed. It was a pleasant sensation which made his body tingle so he pressed his lips harder against Aramis’ and kissed him back, wanting more of it. D’Artagnan even found himself whimpering against the cold lips. Screw giving blood, he wanted this instead.

Fingers tightened in his hair but he ignored it because he was so focused on those glorious lips which were making him shiver. He had never been kissed in such a way before, like he was the world and all that mattered. It felt amazing, incredible. D’Artagnan was desperate for more of the passionate kiss and groaned with delight when the fingers in his hair started tugging until, suddenly, d’Artagnan felt his head being pulled away. He moaned frustrated at the loss as the kiss ended.

“No,” he whispered. He wanted to kiss Aramis again but Aramis was yanking his head to the side and d’Artagnan opened his eye-lids briefly to discover two large black pupils staring back at him. Abruptly he panicked a little. What was he doing? This was crazy. Only he couldn’t move to stop anything as Aramis now had him by the hair. His head was pulled back down fiercely and he could feel a cold chill against his skin. The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end.

“Aramis,” he breathed. He still felt aroused and light-heated as something hard started pressing against the skin of his neck and pushed. D’Artagnan whimpered, it hurt. He wanted to shove Aramis away but he felt half-drunk with lust and half terrified which meant that his limbs wouldn’t work.

The pressure on his neck continued until two sharp teeth pierced his skin. He cried out in pain and the fingers in his hair tightened to keep him there, causing his scalp to throb. However, the intense pain only continued for a few seconds before the teeth were removed, the action of which caused d’Artagnan to hiss. The intense pain was replaced by the sensation of lips sucking hard. D’Artagnan could feel his blood being drawn out of him, Aramis drinking and swallowing frantically.

D’Artagnan desperately tried to keep still but the dizziness of the initial pleasant stimulation was being replaced by dizziness of a different kind. This time it was more unpleasant and he started to feel queasy.

“Aramis…” he tried to whisper out a warning. “…stop.”

But, as if the vampire hadn’t even heard, he continued to drink. D’Artagnan was quickly feeling tired, his head starting to droop. It would have dropped forward if Aramis didn’t have such a good grip on his hair.

“Aramis…” D’Artagnan groaned again. “No…you need to stop.”

He could barely keep his eyes open because the room around him was spinning wildly. He tried to stay awake but he could barely manage it. He started to panic and, mercifully, his arms unexpectedly came to life again. He pushed frantically at Aramis’ chest and tried to get away. His body suddenly going into fight-mode but Aramis’ grip on his head was too strong.

“Aramis!” D’Artagnan cried until the fingers in his hair finally loosened and the mouth disappeared.

“D’Artagnan?” came the clear voice of the vampire. “Oh no.”

D’Artagnan’s forehead fell forward until it hit Aramis’ shoulder. The vampire quickly wrapped his arms around him and he was moving, trying to get up, not letting go of d’Artagnan who felt incredibly woozy.

“D’Artagnan, fuck, what have I done?!”

Aramis cradled d’Artagnan in his arms as he sat up.

“What have I done?” he repeated. D’Artagnan wanted to say something but he felt faint and weak only he had to try.

“I offered,” he whispered, his words getting a little lost in the vampire’s grip.

\-------------------------------------------------

Whilst Athos felt absurdly guilty for stealing from the hospital it also proved to be quite easy. Although he was grateful that Constance was there, showing him where to go. She was also able to hide the two litres of blood which Athos had managed to get out of the locked fridge and a stomach tube they had taken from a cupboard. Whilst Athos didn’t like the thought of having to stick something down Aramis’ throat, they would have to consider doing it if they had no other option.

It wasn’t long before they were back at the house again and hurrying up the stairs. Athos shoved the bedroom door open and the sight he was confronted with made him freeze in shock. Aramis was sitting up in the bed holding a very dead looking d’Artagnan in his arms. There was bright red blood dripping down his chin.

“No,” Athos gasped, trying to take in the scene. What had Aramis done? “No!” He screamed in a state of panic and ran towards the bed.

“Stop!” He heard Constance cry from behind him but he couldn’t. He threw himself at Aramis and shoved the vampire violently in the chest to push him away before snatching d’Artagnan out of his arms. He pulled the human away from the vampire and Aramis did nothing to stop him, he let Athos drag d’Artagnan towards the end of the bed.

“D’Artagnan?” Athos gasped, looking down at the pallid face, brushing some of the dark hair back and trying to feel a pulse on his neck. He immediately saw two puncture marks in his skin but then there was a groan and the young man twitched in his arms.

“I’m okay…” came the weak voice from the human. Athos’ body shook with relief and he pulled d’Artangan close to his chest, holding him tightly. He shot furious unforgiving daggers over at the vampire. It was only then that he noticed guilty tears spilling out of Aramis’ eyes but Athos was too angry to care.

“You tried to kill him?!” Athos spat. Constance was soon close by, attempting to look at d’Artagnan so Athos loosened his grip to let her.

Aramis wasn’t saying anything, he was just sitting there silently, tears rolling from his weeping eyes down his face.

“You tried to kill him?!” Athos yelled again, he had no control over his emotions. Although on the inside he was blaming himself as much as Aramis as he’d left d’Artagnan alone with a vampire. “We went to fetch you some blood!”

“No…” he heard d’Artangnan say. He was trying to brush both Constance and Athos away but he was obviously too weak to do either. But Athos noticed his protests and helped d’Artagnan sit up slowly, allowing the lad to lean against him if he need to. “…it’s not Aramis’ fault. I offered. I told him to do it.”

Athos tried to process the information, Constance spoke up before his brain had time to finish. “Aramis wouldn’t have done this if he was thinking. He was in pain and it was instinct.”

Athos looked at her and felt himself calming down a little. Perhaps they were right. Aramis must have woken up in agony, he probably wasn’t even able to think logically and if warm fresh blood was being offered right in front of his face... Athos sighed as he eventually came to the conclusion that Aramis hadn’t been trying to kill d’Artagnan at all, he just needed the blood.

D’Artagnan was soon sitting up by himself. He looked pale and dizzy but he was clearly alive. “I just let him have a little,” he was telling Constance who was fussing with him like a mother-hen. She moved to grab the flannel which was on the bed-side table and wiped at the blood dripping down his neck from the puncture wounds.

“I’ll go and fetch some bandages,” Constance said quickly.

Athos sighed and looked back over at Aramis.

“You scared me,” he explained. Not willing to apologise but wanting to say something all the same.

Aramis nodded slowly. “I know,” he whispered, sounding like he had scared himself far more.

“I’ll be right back,” Constance informed them all although she was staring at Athos, he wasn’t sure why.

Athos just sat on the end of the bed letting d’Artagnan lean back against him a little. Aramis remained quiet, they all did, until Constance had come back with a first-aid kit and a glass of orange juice which she held out to d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan drank slowly as Constance opened up the kit. She finally looked over at Aramis.

“You do know what this means, don’t you?”

Aramis offered one nod and then pushed himself up against the headboard, the sheet slipping to reveal that his chest wounds were just as deep and gruesome as they had been before, even though he was no longer showing any sign of being in pain.

“Where’s Porthos?” he asked tentatively, like he was partly afraid of finding out.

“He’s back at the docks,” Constance explained. “Locked up in that cage still because it’s the safest place for him. Ninon is there with him.”

“What happened?” Aramis then asked. Athos suddenly realised that Aramis would have no memory of any of it considering he had been unconscious. He decided to be the one to explain as it had been his idea.

“We let the Court of Miracles werewolf pack lose on the vampires. Most of the vampires were killed, a few managed to escape.”

Athos knew that his explanation didn’t quite explain the full extent of the carnage but he wasn’t sure that Aramis needed to know all the gory details at that point and neither did the two humans.

“So Porthos is okay?” Aramis asked, clearly Porthos was the only thing on his mind.

“Yes, I think so,” Constance said. She was kneeling down in front of d’Artagnan now, placing a large plaster onto his neck to cover up the bite marks. “Aramis, you know I’ll have to…”

“I know,” Aramis interjected. Athos wasn’t entirely sure what was going on as there was clearly a silent understanding between the two of them which he wasn’t a part of.

“Do you need more blood?” Constance asked next, once she was done with d’Artagnan who was still drinking the juice. “We got some from the hospital.”

Aramis shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m already healing.”

Constance sighed loudly and then got back up onto her feet. “Then I’ll go and prepare the room.”

Aramis nodded.

“What wrong?” d’Artagnan asked, gasping as he lowered down his now empty glass.

“Nothing,” Aramis lied and even seemed to be attempting a smile.

The three of them sat in the room for a while, the colour was already starting to slowly come back to d’Artagnan’s face. Athos heard banging and scraping noises coming from the attic. He briefly looked up and wondered what Constance was doing up there. He suddenly realised that he’d never even been into the attic before.

“I can’t believe you all came to rescue us,” Aramis said after the long silence.

“Of course we did,” d’Artagnan told him with a smile. “It was Athos really. I mean it was all his idea. He and Ninon went to find Anne and then they went to find Flea, who was very up for the idea of a dramatic rescue.”

“You went to see Anne?” Aramis asked Athos, it was obviously the part which had stuck out for him the most.

“Yes,” Athos explained, he was still sitting at the foot of the bed which was thankfully big enough for all of them. “She was the last person who had seen you. We had no-idea where you were.”

Aramis paused for a moment. “Did she help you?”

“Yes,” Athos informed him. “She was very helpful.”

The information seemed to make Aramis frown and, whilst Aramis was frowning, Athos looked at his wounds on his chest. The lacerations made by Porthos’ claws were still the same size as before. They didn’t seem to be healing at all but either Aramis could no longer feel the pain or he was doing an amazing job of hiding his agony. Athos wondered if d’Artagnan’s blood was numbing it a little.

After a few more minutes Constance re-appeared looking a little sweaty. She had also tied her hair back up into a bun.

“So, are you ready?” she asked Aramis. “Maybe you should shower quickly? Get all the blood off and clean your wounds. Athos can help you.”

Aramis nodded and then slowly swung his legs around and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll get you some comfortable clothes,” she continued and went over to his wardrobe. Athos clambered off the bed and grabbed onto Aramis’ arm, assisting him to stand. The vampire wobbled for a moment and leaned heavily against Athos but eventually seemed to find his balance.

Athos helped him walk slowly out into the hallway. He didn’t even hear a grunt or a whimper out of the vampire as he helped him into the bathroom.

However, when they got there, Aramis just stood in the middle of the bathroom, staring down at his trousers as if wondering what to do with them. Athos waited for a moment to see if Aramis was going to ask for help but, when Aramis continued to not really do anything, he went over anyway. Slowly and tenderly he helped push the trousers down until the vampire was standing there in his underwear. He looked a mess, numerous lacerations still covered his chest and back and there was an ugly gaping wound on his leg. Athos had to compose himself for a moment before stepping past the now shivering vampire and turning the water on in the shower.

“You’re going to be okay,” Athos encouraged, feeling like he should say something to help his traumatised friend. Aramis just nodded, not even looking at him and then waited for the water to heat up. Then he turned away from Athos and pushed down his underwear before stepping into the steaming water and closing his eyes. Athos swung closed the shower-door and decided to give Aramis some privacy. He turned away but stayed in the room, just in case Aramis needed him.

They all told d’Artagnan to wait in the bedroom once Aramis was eventually dry and dressed in sweat-pants and a baggy sweater. Athos followed Constance and Aramis up the small staircase and into the attic. There wasn’t much in the room, just a few boxes around the edges of the slanted roof and there, in the middle, a large chair covered in red cushions but made with thick metal bars. There were four metal rings attached to the wooden slats on the floor at each corner.

Aramis didn’t even protest. He just went over and sat down onto the chair with a hefty sigh. Constance went about strapping his ankles and wrists to both the chair and to the metal rings using some black leather ties with buckles. Athos watched, feeling a little useless and perhaps also feeling a little bad for getting so angry at Aramis. It looked like Aramis was certainly going to pay for what he had done.

“You’re being really calm about this,” Constance encouraged the vampire as she tied the last buckle around his bare ankle. “It’s a nice change from the last time when you were swearing at me and Porthos and calling us all sorts of names.”

“I’m sorry,” Aramis mumbled which made Constance glance up and immediately look guilty.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just mean you’re doing a good job.”

Aramis nodded. “I don’t think this is really necessary. I mean, it was just the once. I don’t need to detox again just from one single time.”

Constance sighed and, once she was done, she stood up and went over to stand next to Athos.

“This does seem a little silly,” Aramis stated, looking at them both. “I’m fine, really I am.”

“Here we go,” Constance whispered quietly out of the corner of her mouth and Athos could tell that the words were only meant to be for him. “I’m sorry, Aramis,” she said a little louder so that Aramis could hear. “But it has to be done. You told me to do this yourself if you ever drank blood again.”

“I didn’t…” Aramis gasped suddenly looking shocked. “I didn’t. I didn’t you, bitch! I DIDN’T!”

Aramis suddenly started tugging at the restraints, fighting and screaming to get off the chair. The rings on the floor shook but nothing was coming lose. “Fuck you!!” He yelled, looking up with his black vampire eyes and sharp teeth. “Fuck you both! Let me go! Fuck you both!”

“I thought it was too good to be true,” she said and grabbed Athos’ arm. She spun the ghost around and started pushing him out of the attic.

“Where are you going?!” Aramis yelled from behind them both as they left. “Don’t leave me here, you cold hearted pieces of shit! Come back!”

“What just…” Athos wasn’t even sure what to ask as she encouraged him back down the stairs where he waited for Constance to join him in the hallway. He could still hear Aramis shouting and cursing from up above.

“Blood brings out the worst in him,” Constance explained. “He was controlling it for a while but I knew it wouldn’t last. He’ll do anything to get us to let him go. Last time he was swearing one minute, charming us the next, begging us the following. But don’t. Don’t let him go even if you think he’s fine again and we mustn’t let d’Artagnan go up there either for reasons I’ll explain to you later. In fact one of us needs to stay in the house with them at all times.”

Athos just nodded at Constance’s stern words and watched as she walked back towards Aramis’ bedroom. Athos turned his head to look up at the small staircase. Aramis was still swearing.

\------------------------------------

Porthos figured that he should be used to waking up feeling sick and groggy by now but he wasn’t. So, when it happened again, he sighed as he lay on the ground, wondering where the hell he was and what had happened. He could feel the cold floor against his naked skin so assumed that he had changed. Lifting his woozy head he tried to sit up and look around. Immediately he saw the bars of the cage, immediately he saw the room he was in and immediately he remembered.

“Aramis?” he gasped and spun his head around. He scrambled onto his hands and knees and looked. Blood…there was blood on the concrete right in front of him. “Aramis?!” he cried out. No…no…please no. Please…he twisted his head around more, looking for the body but he quickly discovered that he was alone in the cage. Aramis wasn’t even there. Had he turned to dust like Marsac had? But where were his clothes?

“ARAMIS?!” he screamed again and stumbled up onto his feet, lurching forward until he fell against the bars. “Please no…” he whispered to himself. “…please…please.”

“Porthos?” he heard a voice, a female voice. He turned and looked through the bars and that’s when he noticed the scene around him for the first time. There were bodies all over the floor and blood, lots of blood. Vampires were lying dead, most of them sliced and torn apart. So many limbs and body parts, gashes and lacerations and dead looking faces….Porthos twisted as bile came up from his stomach. He leaned forward and threw up.

“Porthos,” he heard his name being gasped and soon someone was standing on the other side of the cage. Porthos groaned and stood up again. Ninon was there, looking like a beautiful angel amongst the unsettling mess. Porthos stared at her for a moment.

“Did I kill him?” he asked quietly. He was almost shocked to see her immediately shake her head.

“We got him out. He’s injured but the others are with him, looking after him.”

Porthos took in a large in-take of air. Aramis was alive? Had he really survived?

“I need to see him,” he insisted and Ninon nodded.

“I can’t find the vampire with the key so I’ll have to use my somewhat rusty lock-picking skills. Be patient, okay?”

“I don’t give a damn how you do it, love, just get me out of here,” Porthos pointed out. He didn’t care that he was naked, he didn’t care what had happened to the rest of the vampires, he just wanted to see Aramis. He needed to see the vampire with his own eyes.

\-----------------------------------------

Aramis had eventually calmed down and was now silent. D’Artagnan was feeling better and was asleep in his bed with Constance curled up next to him. Athos watched over them both for a while, feeling protective of the two humans.

However, once satisfied that they were both sound asleep after their exhausting day, Athos left the room. Athos felt ill. He was soon sitting on his own downstairs in his arm-chair trying to process everything which had just happened.

The plan had been his idea but the reality of it…the reality was quite something else. All of the events were swirling around in his head. Everything, every single vampire that been ripped apart and every werewolf which had been killed trying to help. Aramis being injured and having to go through detox, d’Artagnan letting Aramis drink from him…it was all his fault. Everything was on his conscious because he didn’t kill Anne when he had the chance. All of the murders she had committed to get revenge on him were all his fault and everything which had happened since that day. He had once believed that jumping off a bridge would end it all and yet not even that had been enough.

Athos sighed and leaned forward, placing his face into his hands, wondering if he should just disappear and let them get on with their lives. Yet he knew that d’Artagnan’s determination wouldn’t waver so he owed it to the lad to stick around and now Porthos, Aramis and Constance were part of it as well. Dragged into his darkness and his mess just because they had chosen to be his friend.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the empty room and he sat there for hours until the sun started seeping in through the curtains and the front door suddenly flew open. Porthos stormed into the hallway and looked over at Athos. He was wearing clothes that clearly didn’t belong to him because they were far too small.

“Where is he?”

What? Who? Athos questioned in his head then quickly realised…Aramis. “In the attic,” he said but, before he had time to explain, Porthos was running up the stairs. Ninon appeared from behind Porthos and looked over at Athos sympathetically.

“Well?” he asked her, needing to know what the damage was.

“Three werewolves dead if you include one in the other fighting cage who died before I could do anything,” she explained, sounding ever so calm as she almost glided into the living-room. “The rest are all fine. Flea and Charon are fine. They’re taking the others back home. They’re very grateful.”

“Grateful?” Athos questioned, looking up at Ninon as she stood in front of him.

Ninon gave him a nod. “There were more werewolves in cages upstairs. One was just a girl.” Ninon moved to sit onto Athos’ lap and he did nothing to stop her. Like she could read his mind she reached down and started to stroke some of his hair back from his face in a way that almost felt soothing.

“How’s Aramis?” she asked.

“Healing,” Athos said softly. He didn’t want to explain the whole situation to her in that moment.

“Good. Porthos needs to look after him for a while. It might help with his guilt.” She paused and continued to look down at the ghost. “We rescued Aramis, Porthos and lots of werewolves. More than three would have died if we hadn’t done anything. So why do you look like you’re currently carrying all of the sins of the world on your shoulders?”

Athos found himself unable to respond. He just looked up at her sadly. If only she knew.

Suddenly she was closing her eyes and tilting her head down towards him. He wanted to stop her but he found himself unable to. Getting close to Ninon was a terrible idea but he needed it; he needed a distraction from it all. She kissed him. Her lips so tender at first, gently stroking against his. Then he moaned unintentionally and it seemed to switch something in her body. Suddenly her lips were pressing harder and a tongue was slipping into his mouth. Hands were holding his cheeks before sliding up into his hair. He kissed her back, he couldn’t control himself. He needed someone to hold, he needed this.

Soon she was pulling at his hair, which seemed to send heat straight to his groin. They were both moaning as the kiss grew more passionate. Then he felt dizzy and the chair suddenly disappeared from underneath him. Startled as he fell to the ground with Ninon on top of him it took Athos a few seconds to realise that she had teleported them into his bedroom. But, the second he knew that they had privacy, Athos scrambled to his feet and Ninon did the same. She was tugging at his jumper and he lifted up his arms to allow her to take it off. She threw it to the ground somewhere and Athos found himself pushing her back against a wall. As soon as her back hit it she gasped and smiled seductively at him. He grabbed her wrists and pinned her hands against the wall above her head. He pushed his body against hers and kissed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [In the BBC Being Human ghosts can't take their clothes off but hey, where's the fun in that? So I hope you forgive me for using some artistic license.]


	19. Athos had got laid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning – Talk of Athos’ suicide happens in this chapter. It’s nothing graphic but I know it could be a trigger for some. If it is then stop reading after Ninon leaves the kitchen and you can pick it up when Porthos and Aramis are in the attic. I’ll do a brief summary of the important bits in the notes at the end of the chapter.

Porthos raced up the steps into the attic and gasped at the sight he discovered once he entered the room because it immediately brought back so many horrible memories. Aramis was tied to the chair, wearing loose trousers and a sweater. His chin was hanging down against his chest like he was asleep. Porthos could see no visible signs of injuries but he assumed that there must be some beneath the baggy clothes after what Ninon had told him. But why the vampire tied to the chair?

“Aramis?” he called, going over and falling to his knees beside the vampire’s still legs. “Aramis…” he reached out and cupped Aramis’ cheek gently in the palm of his hand. So Aramis _was_ alive, he could barely believe it. Or at least as alive as a vampire could be. He wanted to break down and cry tears of joy but there was something holding it all back; he needed to see Aramis’ eyes. Aramis stirred, his head started to move about and he eventually lifted it slowly. He stared at Porthos for a moment and then, as recognition set in, his eyes lit up.

“Porthos!” he gasped, his expression one of pure joy and relief.

Porthos grinned and threw himself forward between Aramis’ legs, wrapping his arms around the vampire’s waist the best he could with the vampire tied to the chair. Aramis hissed at the action which made Porthos loosen his grip a little and look up at him concerned.

“You’re hurt?” Porthos asked, eyes studying the vampire’s body but, still unable to see anything over the clothing, he started to investigate. He pulled the sweater gently up over the vampire’s stomach. “I’m sorry. Aramis, I’m so sorry. I did this to you. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be fine,” Aramis reassured his friend. “Stop, I’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault.” He attempted to smile as Porthos discover part of a gruesome looking laceration which appeared to go across the vampire’s chest. He suddenly felt sick so he had to pull the sweater back down. He had done that. He had cut Aramis open.

Porthos found himself struggling to hold back the tears. Then he reached up to tugged down Aramis’ head down so he could pull the cold lips against his own. He almost sobbed but the vampire opened his mouth to deepen the kiss which made the werewolf relax a little. Eventually all of the anxiety, worry and stress melted away from the pair of them as the kiss continued.

When Porthos did finally pull away they were both smiling.

“God I love you,” Porthos said, almost crying again but this time because he was so happy. But there was also something puzzling him. “But why the fuck are you in this chair?”

Suddenly Aramis’ face changed. He looked a little…guilty. The expression made Porthos sigh because he was starting to get an unsettling feeling in his stomach that he already knew the answer to his own question.

“Constance is being over-cautious and ridiculous really,” Aramis explained. “I only drank some blood they got from the hospital so I could heal. She’s over-reacting. I had all three of them dragging me up here and tying me down. I need to heal, Porthos. I can’t heal sitting in his chair. Please untie me.”

Porthos studied Aramis from his position still kneeling between the vampire’s legs and, as much as he wanted to believe the man, he had a gut feeling that he needed to check the story with the others first.

“Sure,” he said, wanting to reassure Aramis that he was listening. “It does seem a little over the top. I’ll go and talk to them.”

“No!” Aramis suddenly said which unfortunately confirmed Porthos’ theory but Aramis, not realising, continued. “They don’t understand me like you do. They’ll tell you to keep me here for a few days just in case. But you understand me, don’t you, Porthos? You love me, don’t you, Porthos?”

“Oh you little…” Porthos muttered, rising to his feet. He no longer had any doubt. Aramis had human blood in his system and the voice the vampire was speaking with was his darker side.

“Fuck you!” Aramis suddenly screamed. “This is all your fault! You tried to kill me! Fuck you!”

Porthos sighed as he backed away and looked at the man he loved so terribly painfully tied up in the chair pulling at the restraints; his face now full of anger and his sharp teeth were out. Porthos wanted to hold him and hug him so badly but he knew that it would have to wait until the blood was out of the vampire’s system. It was for the best, even though Porthos’ chest felt tight with guilt because he had done this to Aramis. His own hands had almost killed him.

“Aramis,” Porthos said sternly, trying to remain strong despite his heart being pulled to pieces. “You know I love you. We all do and that’s why we have to do this.”

“No you fucking don’t, you sadistic bastard,” Aramis hissed. “I hate you.”

Porthos frowned, those words stung him more than anything else could have. “No you don’t,” he snapped loudly and firmly. “Don’t you go saying things like that. I don’t care if you’ve got human blood in your system, you need to watch what you say because that was very hurtful.”

Aramis, surprisingly, suddenly looked remorseful and the muscles in his arms calmed down. “No, I know. I’m sorry. God I don’t know why I said that.” His vampire teeth slowly disappeared and he looked down at his lap. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh,” Porthos took a tentative step closer to the chair and reached out to stroke some of Aramis’ hair. “It’s okay. I love you and I’m going to love you through every minute of this. We’re all here for you. We’ll never leave you, okay?”

Aramis nodded sadly. “I can’t stop the words from coming out. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry now. It’s okay, I know,” Porthos reassured Aramis and stayed stroking his hair for a few minutes, hoping that it was comfort enough, but then decided that he needed to find out the true story from the others. So, once Aramis had calmed down, he told Aramis that he was going to quickly get changed; he had stolen the clothes he was wearing from one of the dead vampires and they didn’t exactly fit him.

Aramis nodded and seemed to doze back to sleep. So Porthos crept down the steps and, deciding that he was far more likely to find Athos still downstairs than the other two awake, went back into the living-room but Athos wasn’t there so, confused, he went back upstairs and headed towards the ghost’s room.

When he got to Athos’ door he pushed it open and it was only whilst his fingers were still on the door-handle his sensitive ears immediately picked up some strange noises. A woman gasping, a man grunting and skin slapping. Unfortunately his brain didn’t catch up fast enough to stop his hand from swinging the door open.

Straight away he saw where the noises were coming from. Ninon and Athos were on his bed. Ninon’s small naked breasts were on full display as she straddled Athos, bouncing up and down on his lap, gasping and whimpering each time she lowered herself onto him. And Athos was naked beneath her, his fingers gripping firmly onto her hips as their bodies pounded together.

Porthos’ eyes went wide in panic.  He hadn’t meant to walk in and catch them at it.

Thankfully Athos was facing Ninon but Ninon, who was clearly enjoying herself on top of Athos, was facing the door. She spotted Porthos and Porthos was just about to slam the door shut in alarm when she winked at him before closing her eyes again and groaning even louder as she continued to rock up and down. For some reason her lack of shame at being caught having sex made Porthos chuckle quietly to himself and he then, with some sense back in his head, slowly closed the door hoping that Athos wouldn’t hear.

Porthos didn’t blame them. After a night like that, if Aramis hadn’t been tied to the chair in the attic, he’d be wanting to do the same thing.

So Porthos, hoping he wasn’t about to find a similar situation in d’Artagnan’s room, stood and listened at the door first. He couldn’t hear anything apart from gentle breathing so opened the door and peeked inside. Constance and d’Artagnan were both curled up in bed together. They were holding hands as they lay facing each other. Porthos smiled at the rather adorable sight but then he noticed something white on d’Artagnan’s neck so he crept closer. He quietly made his way over to the side of the bed and stared down. D’Artagnan had a plaster on his neck but two small circles of blood were visible through the material. No…Porthos thought. Had d’Artagnan been attacked at the warehouse or was that Aramis? Porthos sighed and then decided that the answer could wait until they were all awake again. He assumed if d’Artagnan had drunk any vampire blood he’d currently be locked up in the attic as well, so that was something.

He tip-toed out of the room and finally went into his own bedroom where he got changed into clean underwear and comfortable trousers, before picking up a couple of pillows and his duvet. He carried everything up to the attic where Aramis was still sleeping despite his uncomfortable position. Porthos assumed that the vampire must have been utterly exhausted. Porthos placed the duvet as he close as could get it to the chair and then laid down, resting his head on the pillows. It wasn’t going to be very comfortable on the floor but at least he’d be close to Aramis.

\-------------------------------

“Athos,” Ninon moaned as she continued to rock up and down on him. He was looking up at her with an intensity that she had never seen on his face before. She didn’t usually get involved with those she was helping but Athos fascinated her and she couldn’t help but fall for his solemn allure and fuck he was gorgeous lying naked beneath her. She began to whimper louder as she felt her muscles tighten. She might be dead but she was still a woman and she had needs.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, even though she was the one doing most of the work. “Don’t stop…”

She was close, so close. He was hitting all of the right spots and then, suddenly, she cried out and shivered. “Athos!” she screamed his name as she spasmed violently. Her body wouldn’t stop shaking and it reminded her of how long it had been. Once her muscles finally calmed down she continued to ride him slowly, just stroking up and down. He was still hard inside her and, whilst she knew that Athos didn’t have the ability to create life, he certainly still needed his own release.

“Wonderful,” she sighed and opened her eyes to look down at him. She smiled and, whilst he didn’t smile back, she could see something in his eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, he abruptly grabbed her arms and, perhaps far too gently for someone who must have been so pent-up and aroused, he carefully pushed her off his lap and lowered her down onto her back. Then he thrust back inside her twitching body and fucked her quite thoroughly. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist and her over-sensitive body started shivering as he pounded into her. It only took another couple of minutes of quite furious thrusting before he grunted into her ear and then finally let go. She could feel him filling her up.

When it was over she reached up and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down on-top of her. There she held him tightly, stroking his back until she felt him start to shake.

“Shhh it’s okay,” she whispered. She knew why he was shaking. She knew that he probably hadn’t been with a woman since his wife and certainly not been with a woman since he had died. She knew it half because she had been watching him and half because she understood ghosts.

“It’s okay,” Ninon continued to whisper and tried to comfort him the best she could as his body shook with all the pent-up emotion finally being released. She couldn’t tell if he was crying but it didn’t matter; he was moving on and letting go. She stroked her hands up and down his back and into his hair until she felt his body calm down. Then he eventually lifted his head and looked down at her. He appeared embarrassed which she found absurdly adorable in the circumstances.

“You are allowed emotions, you know,” she assured him. He gave her a small rather unconvincing nod before he slowly rolled off her and reached out for a blanket. He pulled one on top of them both and held her close. She smiled and snuggled up against his chest. She knew that she would feel guilty for getting too involved when she woke up but, for the moment, she was going to enjoy it.

\-----------------------------------------------

Aramis only let them sleep for a short time before waking them all up with swearing and cursing which permeated from the attic. Constance was the first to stumble out into the hallway half-asleep and sighing sadly. However Porthos soon joined her, doing his trousers up as he appeared from his quick visit to the bathroom. It took Constance a moment to register the fact Porthos was there but she then gasped and wrapped her arms around him, giving him a squeeze so tight that he could barely breathe. He chuckled when she pulled back with a look of pure relief on her face.

“You’re okay. I knew you would be but it’s so good to see you.”

“Hey, Constance. I’m glad you’re okay as well. I’ll go and calm down our resident vampire,” he said, nodding towards the attic stairs where the Aramis was now swearing using quite an impressive mixture of French, Spanish and English. “Then meet me in the kitchen. We all need to talk.”

She nodded and, half an hour later, he was down in the kitchen after having eventually calmed Aramis down by the promise of making some pancakes covered in maple syrup and bringing them up to him.

D’Artagnan and Constance were already there sitting at the kitchen table, d’Artagnan tucking into some cereal. But it was when Athos and Ninon walked into the room that Porthos found himself feeling a little embarrassed. It was made even worse when Ninon, who had walked in behind Athos, gave the werewolf another cheeky wink.

Porthos began to grin because he couldn’t help it, he was really happy for them both, especially Athos. The night before was a night that Porthos was never going to forget for all the wrong reasons but at least one good thing had come from it; Athos had got laid.

Athos looked at Porthos and then over his shoulder at Ninon clearly confused about what they were both finding so amusing. Porthos assumed that meant Athos didn’t realise they had been caught, which was a relief because Porthos knew how embarrassed Athos would have been about it.

Once they were all settled in the kitchen Porthos spoke first.

“I don’t know what to say,” Porthos said as he sat at the kitchen table looking at the four of them. “What you all did…I really appreciate it.”

Athos, who was still standing up, folded his arms across his chest and huffed. “You would have done the same for us.”

Porthos shrugged a little, probably, but that wasn’t the point. “Still, thank you. Aramis will thank you as well once he’s more himself. What happened after you got him out?” He turned his head to look at Constance and d’Artagnan who were still both at the table with him. It was d’Artagnan who immediately sat up straight to speak.

“He was in a lot of pain. The other two went off to the hospital to get some blood but he told me that he needed fresh blood to heal. So I offered.” He fingered the plaster on his neck and looked a little anxious as if he was worried he was about to get a lot of anger thrown in his direction. But Porthos wasn’t angry. He had already figured that was probably what had happened and personally thought that d’Artagnan was ridiculously brave offering himself up like that.

“You okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned. Being bitten by a vampire was something he had never experienced himself but he imagined that it would be quite traumatic.

D’Artangnan nodded honestly. He felt fine now that he had slept.

“How long do you think he’ll need to be up there?” Porthos then asked Constance who shrugged.

“Not as long as the last time,” she pointed out. “That time he had been drinking blood for decades. This time it was only the once. So I don’t know…maybe three or four days?”

Porthos nodded. The real problem was only Aramis could tell them for sure but they couldn’t believe anything that would come out of his mouth for a while. Three or four days sounded about right to Porthos as well.

“You will have to stay away from Aramis,” Porthos told d’Artagnan firmly.

The lad looked at the werewolf confused. “Why? Because now he has had a taste for my blood he’ll want more?”

Porthos made a face and Constance chuckled. “Not exactly,” she told him.

Ninon stepped forward and spoke. “I’m worried that the vampires will want revenge. Or at least those who are left. You will all need to be extra cautious for a while. They might not know who organised the attack but they will be furious at all werewolves.”

“Yeah the Court of Miracles and other packs might be in danger but we’ll be okay,” Porthos pointed out. “Hardly anyone even knows about us living here. I’ll go and see Flea later, make sure she’s prepared just in case.”

Ninon nodded and Athos worried. He’d hate to think that he had started a supernatural war and, in the back of his mind, he also still worried about the queen but that would have to wait until Aramis was himself again to deal with that issue.

“I was hoping to take d’Artagnan somewhere today,” Athos said, speaking up as he looked over at the human sitting at the table. “If you feel well enough to come with me?”

D’Artagnan, looking very curious, nodded slowly.

“Probably a good idea to get him out of the house considering,” Porthos said and couldn’t hide his frown.

“What?!” D’Artagnan insisted, looking from Porthos to Constance. “What aren’t you telling me?” He also looked over at the ghosts for help but Athos just shrugged because he didn’t have a clue what the secret was either. So the human eventually settled his pleading eyes on Ninon who was looking at him with a slight hint of sympathy.

“D’Artagnan did you have any _interesting_ dreams last night?” she asked which made Constance snort with amusement.

“No,” D’Artagnan said but then, as if he remembered something, started to blush. A shade of pink began to develop on his cheeks. “I mean I…well…I…”

“About Aramis?” she asked as d’Artangan seemed to be stumbling over his words.

He gasped. “No!” And blushed even more. Porthos sighed and got up to make pancakes.

“You will,” Ninon teased before placing a quick kiss on Athos’ cheek, giving his arm a squeeze and leaving the kitchen. Porthos noticed the public show of affection and secretly hoped that Ninon would make Athos smile a little more.

\------------------------------------

Considering a ghost wasn’t able to drive and d’Artagnan couldn’t drive, they ended up taking the metro. It was an experience which Athos didn’t find very pleasant considering it was difficult to avoid humans from walking straight through him but he had managed to overcome the nauseating feeling and got d’Artagnan to where they needed to go. Then he made d’Artagnan walk across a bridge out over the river. The wind was biting and d’Artagnan was shivering. Athos, however, didn't feel the cold and started feeling a little bad for dragging d’Artagnan all the way out there but it was important.

Once they were standing in the middle of the bridge on the walkway, which was quiet apart from a few strangers hurrying by, Athos stopped and looked out over at the water, the harsh wind blowing at his hair furiously.

“Why have you brought me here?” d’Artagnan asked, tucking his hands into his coat and trying to stop shivering.

“This is where I did it,” Athos pointed out, still staring out across the water.

“This is where you did…” d’Artagnan paused as he suddenly started to realise. “…this is where you…jumped?”

Athos nodded slowly. D’Artagnan pulled his hands back out of his pockets and slowly walked over to the edge. He placed his hands down onto the icy metal and leaned over, looking down below. The river was flowing particularly fast that morning and it looked an awfully long way down. D’Artagnan sighed as he pushed himself back up. He couldn’t even imagine what must have been going on inside Athos’ head when he had climbed over the railings.

“Why have you brought me here?” D’Artagnan asked. He continued to hold onto the barrier but he turned to look at the ghost.

Athos continued to stare somewhere into the distance but he did eventually turn back to d’Artagnan.

“Because I wanted to give you a proper apology.”

“Athos, you don’t have to…” d’Artagnan began to say but Athos interrupted him.

“Hear me out,” he requested and then paused for a moment but this time d’Artagnan just waited. “I came home one day to find her standing over the body of my brother with a kitchen knife in her hand. She told me that he had attacked her so she had defended herself. The police believed her story and my dead brother was deemed an attempted rapist.

I only found out the truth when I was cleaning out his bedroom a couple of weeks later and I discovered a letter which he had been writing to me. It wasn’t even finished but it stated that he had witnessed her killing a man with her bare hands. He said that there was no body because the man had turned to ash once she had stabbed him in the chest. Suddenly it all became clear to me that he hadn’t attempted to rape her…he had confronted her and she had killed him for it. I knew that the police wouldn’t believe my story about a man dying and then turning to ash, so I had no option but to confront her about it myself.

So, not wanting to receive the same fate as my brother, I tied her to the bed first. It was…well that part was easy. I showed her the letter and she told me that she was a witch and the man she had killed was a vampire, not a human. I didn’t believe in vampires so I didn’t believe her. I thought she was a murderer and she had killed my brother to stop him from talking. I didn’t know what to do…I was confused and angry…”

Athos paused for so long that d’Artagnan wondered if he was going to finish his story. He stepped forward a little, hoping to provide Athos some comfort just by his presence. Athos seemed to notice even though his mind appeared to be elsewhere.

“I set fire to the house with her in it,” he finally admitted. “I wasn’t sure if I believed in witches but I did believe that she had murdered Thomas. Only I heard her screaming for me and I…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let her burn. So I went back in and untied her. She then knocked me out, left me in the burning building to die and fled.”

“B-but you got out?” d’Artagnan said, knowing that Athos died on the bridge and not in the fire.

“Yes,” Athos nodded. “Barely. But she was angry at me for even attempting to kill her. That’s when she started murdering those around me. People that worked on my estate and friends of my parents. She knew that would hurt me more. So, after all of those deaths and the police doing nothing to stop her…I came here.”

D’Artagnan sighed as he took it all in. Then he looked back out at the water again. How desperate must someone be to jump? How hopeless must they feel? To climb over the barrier, stand on the edge and fall from that height. How alone in the world Athos must have felt when he decided that death was the only way to end it all? D’Artagnan attempted to hold back the tears which were threatening to spill from his eyes. If only he had been there, he would have stopped him. He would have grabbed him and pulled him back.

“It’s still not your fault,” he attempted to reassure Athos. “I know you think it is because you think that you should have stopped her but you should never feel guilty for the fact you weren’t able to kill someone, witch or not.”

“I just…if I had then your father…”

D’Artagnan raised his hand to silence the ghost.

“This is about her, not you. She stabbed their hearts, not you. Do you really think she never killed anyone before she knew you? Do you think she has stopped just because you’re dead? It’s in her, Athos. None of this is your fault.”

Athos opened his mouth as if to say something but no words came out. He was thinking about what d'Artagnan had said. The boy was right, if she was a witch then their marriage was probably nothing more than a brief forgettable moment in her long life. D'Artagnan was right. Athos lowered his head, unable to hold it high any longer.

“We’ll get her,” d’Artagnan promised, reaching over and giving the ghost’ arm a squeeze.

“This isn’t your fight,” Athos said. “You’ve been dragged into so much already.” He looked up at the human. “I promise that I will hunt her down and make her pay for everything she has done. You don’t need to do it with me. You don’t need to put yourself into danger.”

“Hey,” d’Artagnan suddenly had his chest puffed out like he was trying to appear twice his size. “I saved Constance from Marsac, brought a lorry full of werewolves to the docks and I’ve been bitten by a vampire and survived and yet you still think I’m weak?”

Athos shook his head quickly. “I don’t see you as weak. I just don’t think that we all need to be involved.”

“We’re all involved because we want to be,” d’Artagnan protested. “All five of us. We’re family.”

Athos found himself unable to say anything. D’Artagnan had a point. They were like a family. A very odd family but a family all the same.

“When you do finally make her pay for her crimes…” d’Artagnan began and looked a little uneasy about what he was saying. “…will you then die properly? Like go to the other side?”

Athos really had no-idea but he found himself nodding because that was what he assumed. D’Artagnan suddenly looked sad but seemed to then decide to change the conversation.

“Can we get off this bridge? I’m freezing,” he pointed out and started dancing around. Athos nodded little and started walking, d’Artagnan followed.

“Athos…” d’Artagnan said and Athos just listened. “I lied in the kitchen earlier. I _did_ have a dirty dream about Aramis last night. What do you think that means?”

“It means you need to stay away from Aramis,” Athos said grumpily.

\----------------------------------

Porthos, who was up in the attic, was busy examining the vampire's wounds. They appeared to be healing well thanks to d'Artagnan's blood. In fact the gashes on Aramis' backs were already starting to look like nothing more than angry red scars. Porthos marveled at the speed in which Aramis was healing; vampires really were amazing creatures.

“So…” he was saying, going over the conversation he’d just managed to have with a remarkable calm vampire. “…soon you’ll start craving another fix, then how long until the cravings stop?”

“They never stop,” Aramis pointed out. He was still appeared to be pumped up with human-blood as the shaking and sweating hadn't even started.

“Yeah I know. What I mean is…” Porthos lowered Aramis’ sweater back down and went to kneel on the floor in front of the chair. “…when can we let you go?”

“I don’t know,” Aramis admitted with a shrug. “Soon it’ll be the shakes and sweats, followed by cramping…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Porthos said, trying to stop him from listing all of the withdrawal symptoms. He remembered it well from the last time they had to do it and he had hated every second of that. “But it won’t be as long as the last time, right? I mean you only had one drink.”

Aramis nodded, his leg was starting to bounce up and down furiously. “It won’t be as long. You’ll know when it’s over. You’ll see when it’s over.”

Porthos watched the leg and reached out, gently placing his hand down onto it to stop Aramis from shaking. He knew that wasn’t withdrawal, just nerves. He stroked Aramis’ leg with his thumb tenderly.

“I can tell you something which will make you smile?” he said, looking up at Aramis again, trying to sound as cheerful as he could. It seemed to lighten Aramis’ mood and he appeared very interested.

“What?”

Porthos chuckled as he started rubbing his whole hand up and down Aramis’ leg to comfort him.

“I caught Ninon and Athos last night…both naked…in his bed…enjoying themselves.”

Aramis gasped at the information and then laughed. “Are you shitting with me?!”

Porthos shook his head. “Nope but for the sake of our friendship don’t say anything. Athos doesn't know that I saw them and, you know what he’s like, he’d be horrified if he found out.”

“Wow,” Aramis said, still chuckling about the gossip. “That’s hot. She’s hot. I’m glad someone managed to seduce him because Constance and I weren’t getting anywhere.””

“Constance?” Porthos asked with a curious eyebrow raised but, when Aramis didn’t continue with that trail of thought, Porthos was secretly relieved.

“I wish I’d heard them from up here,” Aramis mused.

“Aramis,” Porthos said firmly. “Stop being a perv.”

The vampire laughed. “You’re the one who was watching them.”

“I wasn’t watching them,” Porthos insisted. “I just accidentally walked in. I left pretty fast, believe me.”

Aramis smiled at Porthos fondly but his good mood didn’t last. Like someone was flicking channels in his head, an hour later angry Aramis was back, pulling at the straps and screaming so loudly that he was spitting across the room. His black vampire eyes were glaring at Porthos who was sitting on the floor a few metres away.

“Untie me you, brute! Let me go! You can’t keep me here, you hairy dog!”

Porthos sighed and was trying to ignore all the words. He wasn’t going to let Aramis get to him. He knew that Aramis wasn’t himself when he was high on blood.

“You’re an animal! A fucking animal! You have no right to do this to me! Don’t you know who I am?”

Porthos, now a little curious, looked at the shouting vampire.

“No, who are you?” he probed, wondering where Aramis’ head was.

“Aramis, Marshal of the Paris coven and you have no fucking right to do this! Louis will find out and have your head!”

So, that’s where he was.

“No, wait, I’m not…I’m not,” Aramis suddenly said and dropped his head, his voice calming. “God what am I saying?! I can’t do this.”

“It’s okay…” Porthos said and inched closer, desperately wanting to confront him. “You’re going to be okay.”

Aramis, with his head still hanging forward, started to sob.  Porthos could no longer help himself, he immediately got up onto his feet and dashed over. He leaned over the chair and held Aramis' head in his arms, pulling it against his chest. He let Aramis cry for a while, holding him close and not letting go until Aramis calmed down and began to speak.

“I’m sorry, Porthos,” he whispered, now sounding ever so quiet and gentle. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to shout like that. I can’t stop it. This is why you shouldn’t love me.”

“What?” Porthos immediately asked, wondering why Aramis would make such a flippant comment such as that. Aramis raised his head a little, blood-shot eyes stared up at the werewolf.

“You have no-idea the things I’ve done. I’m not a good person.”

Porthos tutted and let go of Aramis’ head, bending down briefly to brush the dust from the attic off his knees. “Nonsense. It’s my choice if I want to be with you or not and I already know what I want. I’m the one who's sorry. I’m the reason why you’re in this chair.”

Aramis sighed and looked a little deflated.

“It’ll be over soon,” Porthos continued to say.

Aramis seemed to nod sadly, as if agreeing but not entirely sure that he believed it.

“I need to go out to see Flea at some point but Constance is here and the other two should be back soon.”

“How is d’Artagnan?” Aramis asked curiously.

“Fine,” Porthos reassured him. “We’re going to keep him away from you for a few days.”

Aramis looked confused for a moment and then suddenly realised why Porthos had said that. “Oh yes, of course yes. I don’t need a loved-up puppy-dog sitting at my feet…” he looked up at Porthos and smiled slightly. “…because already have one.”

Porthos kicked the vampire’s leg playfully. “Arse.”

“He’ll be fine, it’ll wear off,” Aramis pointed out with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Summary of Athos & d'Artagnan scene – Basically Athos tells d’Artagnan that he found Milady standing over the dead body of his brother and the police believed her story that he tried to rape her. Only, later on, Athos discovered a letter Thomas was writing to him stating that he witnessed her murder someone. Athos then assumed that Thomas must have confronted Milady about it which is why she killed him. Athos then confronted Milady himself and she admitted to him that she was a witch but claimed that the person Thomas had seen her kill was a vampire. Athos was so angry that he tried to burn the house down with her in it, only couldn’t do it, so he rescued her instead. She then attacked him and left him for dead in the burning house. When he survived she then tried to get revenge by killing workers on his estate and old friends of his parents. Athos blames himself but d’Artagnan assures him that none of it is his fault, that the only person to blame is Milady. The end. Oh and d’Artagnan admits he did indeed have a dirty dream about Aramis.]


	20. I will vampire-sit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Made by Isalen

The next day the human was in the kitchen being quite insistent about the fact he wanted to go up and visit Aramis. Constance and Athos were attempting to take no notice of his pleas but the human went on and on until they were unable to ignore him for much longer.

It was Constance who gave in first. She tried to come up with the worst case scenario in her head and struggled to think of anything _really_ bad which could happen considering she’d be up there with them both. She also had a lot of sympathy and could completely understand why d’Artagnan would want to visit his friend who was suffering so much. So it was Constance who eventually agreed on the condition that d’Artagnan could only see the vampire if there was always someone there to supervise. Athos grumbled but he followed them anyway.

D’Artagnan continued to maintain that they were all worrying quite needlessly as he was led up the steps into the loft however, when d’Artagnan stepped into the musky room, the first thing he saw was Aramis in the chair, sweating and shivering and the sight shocked him.

“Aramis,” he gasped in pity and immediately raced over. Porthos, who was already up in the loft, tried to reach out to stop the human but his actions were too slow. D’Artagnan fell to his knees in front of the vampire and was running his finger through the mop of dark curls, brushing it back from the sweaty face. Aramis looked down at the human and somehow managed to muster up a weak smile.

“Hey, Little D. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” d’Artagnan promised, looking up at Aramis with an expression which could only be described as deep love. “I’m fine but look at you. You look so ill. Will you be okay?”

“Of course,” Aramis assured him, trying to stop the trembles threatening to appear because he didn’t want to worry the lad. Only it was difficult, as another shiver hit his spine and went all the way down his arms there was little he could do to stop it. Controlling his shivers now was as impossible as it had been controlling his spiteful words a few hours earlier. At least those had stopped; d’Artagnan’s blood had worn off.

“I’m okay,” he said again, just to reassure them all. “You helped me. I just need to get through this next part.”

“You will, we’ll keep helping you. Oh, Aramis.” D’Artagnan buried his head into Aramis’ lap and Athos raised an eyebrow. They were meant to be supervising yet they all seemed to be standing around and letting d’Artagnan swoon over Aramis like a blushing damsel. Athos himself felt a little lost as to what to do. He knew that d’Artagnan was doing no harm although he suspected that the human would be rather embarrassed once the effect of Aramis’ vampire hormones had warn off.

Porthos, however, slowly walked over to the two embracing…or at least one was embracing the other, Aramis had no free arms to embrace anyone.

“Hey,” he said and poked d’Artagnan in the back firmly, there was just a hint of jealousy in his voice. “We all have something important to talk about. Let go of Aramis for a moment.”

D’Artagnan nodded and lifted his head as asked. He looked up at Aramis, his eyes full of concern and love but he did move, only to sit as close to the chair and Aramis’ side as physically possible. He pressed his shoulder up against Aramis’ bound leg, just to keep a connection to the vampire.

Aramis just tried not to smile as he noticed the somewhat horrified look on Athos’ face at the whole spectacle. Porthos moved to sit down on the other side of Aramis but was a little more generous with distance. Constance and Athos soon joined them on the floor and they all ended up in something which resembled a wonky circle. It was the first time they had all been together in the same room since the kidnapping.

“What is it?” Constance asked Porthos, looking concerned.

“I’ve had an email from work. I’ve been fired,” he announced and then looked up at Aramis in the chair. “You probably have as well. We haven’t exactly been turning up for shifts recently. It was only time before they finally got sick of us.”

Aramis nodded slowly, he was clearly trying to think straight despite his body continuing to be racked with involuntary shivers.

“Probably for the best,” he muttered, attempting to keep his voice steady but doing a somewhat unsuccessful job at it. “I was p-put in the morgue by the council and I don’t know what the council are going to think of me at the m-moment.”

“This council…” Athos said, speaking up. “….who runs it? How does it work?”

“Well there’s a v-vampire council in most countries, run by whoever gets voted in or kills the person who has been voted in.” Athos frowned, vampire politics were as dirty and messy as he had imagined they were but he listened curiously as Aramis continued. “We c-call Louis and Anne the King and Queen because Paris has the biggest coven in France but they don’t actually h-have a lot of p-power when it c-comes to the council.” Aramis paused for a moment, trying to wait for his shivers to calm down before speaking again, finally his voice was a little steadier. “The Paris coven is represented by Richelieu and then most of the other covens have a representative as well. So you can potentially piss off one coven but still be supported by the council. It’s very complicated and…p-political.”

Athos nodded. “Do you think they’ll assume you were involved in the attacks?”

Aramis gave as much of a shrug as his tied arms would allow. “Who knows. Whoever discovers the carnage might even assume I’m dead. I’m probably safer than the werewolves are. Which actually means that not turning up for work is the most s-sensible th-ing I can do.”

“But,” Porthos interrupted, partly wanting to give Aramis a break from speaking considering he was struggling. “That doesn’t mean we aren’t still left with a problem. I know we’re talking vampire councils and werewolf attacks here but we also need to remember that we need to pay rent and pay for bills. You know, just that little issue of having a roof over our heads and food on the table.”

D’Artagnan gasped and suddenly spoke up. “Well I could ask Treville for more shifts! I phoned him up yesterday anyway to tell him what happened. He told me to pop in and see him today.”

Porthos nodded and smiled encouraging at the human. “That’s very kind and very much appreciated, D’Artagnan, but it won’t be enough.”

“Athos,” d’Artagnan turned to look over at the ghost. “You must have money? You were rich before.”

Athos frowned. If only the answer to their problem was so simple. “I’m dead, d’Artagnan. Dead people don’t get to keep their inheritance. The government and my ex-wife now have everything I once owned.”

D’Artagnan sighed sadly and it was Aramis who spoke next.

“We do have two options. One is moral and one is very immoral.”

“What’s the moral one?” Constance immediately asked, knowing which one she wanted to do even without the details.

“We find new jobs. Something low key and outside Paris.”

“And the immoral one?” Constance again asked, although she wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to know.

A grin started spreading across Aramis’ face amongst the sweat which was dripping down from his temples. “We have a ghost.”

Whilst it took the others a bit more time, Athos immediately caught onto his meaning. “I’m not going to rob banks for you, Aramis.”

Aramis pouted and tilted his head to the side. It looked even more pathetic considering the state of his face. “Oh come on. It’s their fault for not making their vaults ghost-proof.”

Athos shook his head adamantly. “No. I refuse to abandon my morals just so you can buy take-away pizza on a regular basis.”

“It’s not just for me. Think of our child.” Aramis nodded down at the human beside his chair.

“I’m not a child!” D’Artagnan insisted, staring up at Aramis with big brown eyes. “I’m a man! A man with needs!” D’Artagnan didn’t realise what he had just said until after the words had tumbled out of his mouth and he immediately looked flustered.

It made Aramis smile again. “Alright, D, calm down. I’ll sort out your needs once I’m out of this chair.” The vampire winked teasingly.

“Aramis!” Came a united chorus from the other three but their annoyance at his flirting was soon erased when his shivers took hold again and he grimaced as he struggled to control them. D’Artagnan reached up and rubbed Aramis’ leg reassuringly which made Porthos frown. Whilst he knew that his new infatuation with the vampire wasn’t d’Artagnan’s fault, it still rubbed Porthos up the wrong way and it didn’t help when human’s hand started stroking a little too high up Aramis’ thigh.

“D’Artagnan, stop it,” Porthos jumped up and reached over to tug d’Artagnan’s hand away. D’Artagnan gasped and then glared at Porthos but Porthos was towering rather imposingly above him so he eventually cowered and shuffled away.

Athos, noticing the rising tension between the two of them, decided to intervene.

“Porthos, go and check on Flea. D’Artagnan and Constance, go and see Treville. I will vampire-sit.”

\--------------------------------------

Athos sat next to Aramis for a while helping the vampire look for jobs on the ipad. Only Athos had never used an ipad before and he could tell that he was frustrating Aramis a lot by not understanding what to press.

“Your finger! There isn’t a goddamn button to change the page, you have to swish it with your finger!”

“What does swish it mean?” Athos asked, lifting up the device and looking underneath it, just to double check for hidden buttons.

“For fucks sake, Athos,” Aramis muttered. “You only died a couple of years ago, not in 1815.”

Then his eyes appeared to roll back in his head as he started shaking violently, his tense body was having a fit in the chair. Athos immediately put the ipad down and got up onto his knees. He wanted to reassure Aramis…to comfort him but he was a little lost as to how to do either, only he did remember what he had witnessed Porthos and d’Artagnan both do and placed what he hoped would be a reassuring hand on Aramis’ leg. He gave the tense leg a squeeze until Aramis’ body seemed to calm down and he sank down in the cushions. His head rested on the back of the chair and his backside almost slid off it. Only the restraints around his arms were keeping him in place.

“I can’t do this,” Aramis whispered, almost sobbing with frustration. “I’m so tired. I can’t do this.”

 “You don’t have a choice, do you?” Athos pointed out as he removed his hand. “You’re tied up to the chair, so you don’t have a choice.”

Aramis lifted his head slowly stared at Athos for a while, his skin was even paler than usual and still covered in sweat. Athos shuffled around slightly to reach for the cloth which they had been using to mop the vampire’s brow.

“You’re right,” Aramis said quietly, almost as if Athos’ words were a revelation. “I don’t have a choice. You won’t let me out.”

“No,” Athos said with a shake of his head as he knelt next to Aramis’ leg and reached out to gently wipe the sweat away. Aramis’ eyes appeared to be searching his face as he did so until he pushed himself up until he was sitting properly on the chair once more.

“Athos, thank you. For everything you and Ninon did to get me out. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Athos said as he removed the cloth and placed it back on the floor again. He returned to sit down with the ipad but Aramis wasn’t finished.

“Where is Ninon by the way?”

Athos gave an honest shrug. “I have no-idea.”

There was silence in the room for a while which made Athos curious so he twisted his head to look up at Aramis. Aramis was staring at him with a look of concern on his face.

“Everything okay between you both?” he eventually asked.

“Yes,” Athos said quickly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Aramis shrugged a little but still looked concerned only he appeared to stop himself from saying anything more. “Back to the jobs…”

\-------------------------------------

“So the werewolves slaughtered the vampires?” Treville asked in a very matter-of-fact way.

“Yes, most of them anyway,” d’Artagnan explained as he sat on the bar-stool. Treville was standing behind the bar, his hand resting on one of the beer pumps. It was too early in the day for the pub to be busy so none of them were concerned about anyone overhearing.

“And you’re sure you haven’t been taking pink pills which pictures of Japanese cartoon characters on them?”

D’Artagnan didn’t really understand why Treville would ask such a question but he heard Constance chuckle from the stool beside him and she answered on his behalf.

“Very sure. We’re not on drugs, I promise.”

Treville stared at them, eyeing them both somewhat fondly. His mouth soon curled up into a small smile.

“I’m pleased they’re both alright and you two are both okay. Although what have you done to your neck?”

He nodded towards the plaster still covering d’Artagnan’s bite marks. D’Artagnan took in a deep breath to explain the story but Constance cut in before he could start.

“We have a problem though from all this. Porthos and Aramis have both lost their jobs. D’Artagnan was wondering if he could work a few extra shifts here?”

 “Well,” Treville’s face turned a little more serious, like he was thinking about something. “…actually it’s funny you should ask that,” he began. “I want to expand our lunch and dinner menu but my chef Gerard said that he’d need help in the kitchen if I did that. I know you like cooking, d’Artagnan. I was wondering how you’d feel about becoming an assistant chef? I’ll also pay for you to go to college to get some qualifications."

D’Artagnan’s face suddenly lit up. “Seriously?” he asked, clearly delighted.

Treville gave a shrug. “Sure. It would help me out and maybe be a start of a career for you. And that would mean I’d have an opening for a bartender.”

Constance grinned and almost clapped her hands with delight. “Oh I’ll ask the boys. That solves half of the problem.”

“I’d rather hire Porthos than Aramis, you know, if I can pick. Nothing against Aramis it’s just that I’d rather hire someone who isn’t constantly fighting back an urge to murder my customers.”

\-------------------------

“Please…” Aramis begged, tears now streaming down his face. “Please…please…please. I know there’s blood somewhere in the house. Please, just a sip. Please.”

“No, if you drank more now we would have to start this all over again,” Athos pointed out as he stood in the attic trying to stay strong as he refused Aramis’ request.

“Please…I can’t…please…I can’t do this,” Aramis sobbed. He gritted his teeth and started tugging at the restraints again, using whatever tiny saps of energy he had left in his exhausted body. “PLEASE!” He suddenly screamed. The cry made Athos jump but emotionally he stood firm. In fact he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He could be very stubborn when he wanted to be and Aramis was about to find that out.

“Don’t give up, not now,” Athos said sternly.

“I can’t. I can’t. It hurts. My whole body hurts. Cramps and I can’t stop shaking. Please, Athos. Please just one glass. It’ll get me through it.”

Athos slowly shook his head. “I know you’re lying to me. Don’t lie to me, Aramis. Don’t think of me as a fool.”

Aramis cried some more, closing his eyes and dropping his head, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. “I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” he repeatedly whispered down towards his lap.

Athos was at a loss as to what to do. He was debating calling Porthos and getting him back. Porthos seemed to be-able to comfort Aramis in a way Athos felt rather clueless about. His eyes eventually settled on the ipad.

“Perhaps we can watch a movie together? You told me that there are six Star Wars films.”

“Three of them don’t count,” Aramis said quietly.

“Well that still leaves two which I have yet to see.”

Aramis seemed to shake his head and he still wouldn’t lift it back up. Athos really did feel out of his depth so was relieved when he noticed someone come into the room out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see Ninon and immediately felt better.

“How’s it going?” she asked kindly. Athos gave a little shrug. He hoped that would communicate ‘not well’ without having to say the words. She sent him a reassuring smile and gently walked over to Aramis. She got down onto her knee beside him and reached out to stroke his hair back from his tear soaked face.

“Shhh, you’re going to be alright. You’re going to be just fine…” she uttered soothingly to him, as one hand stroked his hair the other gently squeezed his shoulder. “You’re doing so well, Aramis. So very well.” Her words and gentle fingers seemed to slowly do the trick and Aramis began to calm down. His shaking shoulders began to still and his sobbing stopped. He eventually lifted his head back up and looked at her sadly.

“Just close your eyes and rest,” she encouraged. “Let your body relax.”

Aramis seemed to be listening and he closed his eyes. Ninon continued to stroke his hair. “You’re so tired. Rest, Aramis, listen to your body. Stop fighting it, listen to it. You just need to sleep.”

Athos decided that she must have magic in her fingers because Aramis suddenly seemed more relaxed than he had been for hours. In fact he appeared to be drifting off to sleep in the chair. Once he looked completely settled Ninon slowly got up onto her feet and leaned over the vampire, placing a gentle kiss on his temple. As she stood she continued to stroke his hair for a couple of minutes until Aramis was asleep. Then she slowly pulled her hand back and tip-toed away from the vampire. She turned and walked quietly over to Athos who suddenly felt very grateful that she had appeared.

“Thank you,” he whispered when she came close.

“We need to talk,” she said and took him by the arm, gently guiding him down the stairs towards the landing on the floor below.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, feeling concerned. She had gone off to find out what was happening with the vampires and he suddenly feared the worst.

“I suspect the vampires won’t do anything for a while," she explained. "Their numbers are low and it takes time to create new vampires, train them up and the rest. But…I’m afraid have to go somewhere else,” she told him, looking like it was something she wasn’t at all pleased about. “I’m sorry. It won’t be forever but another ghost needs me.”

Athos felt confused. What other ghost? He frowned without meaning to. It only seemed to make her look guilty and she reached up to place her hand on his chest affectionately. He let her because he felt that it would be rude to push her away.

“I don’t have a lot of choice. When I’m told to do something, I have to do it. I’m sorry. I’ll come back when I can.”

“Who tells you to do things?” Athos asked curiously. “I still feel like there’s so much I don’t know about yet.”

She nodded to imply that he was right. “I know and I will tell you more, when I come back. Please just don’t think I’m leaving you by choice.”

Athos shrugged. He didn’t care…did he? Yes he did. He felt hurt that she was leaving after what had happened between them both. He had finally let someone in and then, within hours…why was he even surprised? He shouldn’t be surprised.

“Athos, are you angry with me?” she asked, searching his eyes, the hand which was on his chest now reaching up to cup his cheek.

“No,” he automatically lied. Why did it matter even if he was? What would making her feel even worse achieve?

She sighed anyway, clearly not believing him. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his. He didn’t push her away, neither did he kiss her back. He just stood there stiffly until she removed her mouth. He could see that his lack of passion hurt her but he couldn’t help it. He felt tense and had a sudden urge to go and hide in his bedroom.

“I’m sorry. You’re doing a really good job with Aramis. It won’t be long now, he’ll be back to normal soon.” She tried to smile but it didn’t quite work. In fact her bottom lip just began to quiver slightly instead. “I have to go.” She suddenly removed her hand and then vanished into thin air. It left Athos standing alone in the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit short. When I wrote the next two chapters I did them together and it just made more sense to split them this way. The next chapter is longer.
> 
> And thank you for all the kudos and comments! They always make me very happy. I was going to tease you about what's coming up but maybe that'll just ruin it. I will just say that Rochefort isn't a very nice guy, something you probably could have guessed.]


	21. That thing with your tongue

Two very long and very strenuous days later Aramis was back to normal, although extremely bored and frustrated after being tied up for so long. He was also being very vocal about that fact, so they all decided it was time to let him go. Porthos was in the bathroom running him a hot bath in preparation because, as well as being bored, Aramis also smelt. There was a ghost lingering in the doorway.

“I’m concerned about the Queen,” Athos admitted. The Queen had been on his mind for a while but the right moment to bring up the topic hadn’t really occurred. So Athos decided that he had to talk to Porthos about it before Aramis was set free. The werewolf seemed more reasonable than the vampire a lot of the time…in fact all of the time, in Athos’ opinion at least.

Porthos continued to frown at all of the weird bubble-bath bottles which were lined up along the side of the bathtub. Considering vampires weren't very keen on water, from what Porthos understood, he was somewhat confused as to why Aramis would need so much bubble-bath. Still he sniffed a couple and put the one which smelt of strawberries into the running water, hoping that Aramis would like it.

“She’ll be fine,” he muttered over to Athos as he turned the cold water on a little so that he wouldn’t burn the vampire. The last thing he wanted to do was injure him again.

“What if they put two-and-two together?” Athos asked, folding his arms and leaning against the door-frame. “She put her life at risk helping you and Aramis.”

Porthos sighed and briefly glanced at Athos before going over to the closet to fetch a clean towel. The closet was full of them thanks to Constance. “She’s hundreds of years old. She can look after herself,” he muttered.

“So you don’t think we should check on her?”

“Check on her?” Porthos was really frowning when he turned to look at Athos for the second time. “It was Aramis going to see her which got us all into the mess in the first place. We made him do it. You and me and look what happened to him. Look at what I did to him.” He shook his head fiercely. “No, he’s not going near her anymore. He’s not going near any of them.”

Porthos’ lack of concern was slowly starting to make sense to Athos. It wasn’t that Porthos didn’t care, he was just going into protective mode. His pack had been threatened and he needed to protect his pack. But then Porthos sighed, obviously feeling a little bad for his small out-burst, like he always did on the rare occasions when it happened. Porthos was a good man with a good heart and he didn’t actually have it in him not to care. He hung the clean white towel up on the towel-rack and finally turned to give Athos his full attention.

“Why don’t you ask Ninon to check on her? She seems good at that kinda thing.”

Athos paused for a moment. His arms, which were still folded across his chest, tightened just a little. He hadn’t told them, neither had any of them noticed.

“She’s gone.”

Porthos paused for a moment and felt both confused and concerned at the statement. “What do you mean gone? Where did she go?”

All Athos offered was a little shrug, so Porthos continued, “Do you mean she passed to the other side?”

“No,” Athos quickly said, pushing himself away from the door-frame with his shoulder. “She had another ghost to help or something. She left a couple of days ago.”

Porthos suddenly felt terrible. He had been so busy looking after Aramis that he hadn’t even noticed. Poor Athos. How could she just leave him right after they slept together?

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a tentative step towards the ghost. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Why would I want to talk about it?” Athos asked, actually sounding quite confused about the offer. Then he unfolded his arms. “I’ll see you in the attic.”

Except Athos didn’t go to the attic, he went into the bedroom, closed his door and sat down on the floor. He wanted to see the Queen again because the Queen was the only person that could help him find _his_ Anne.

\----------------------------------------

“Is this actually happening? I mean I’m not dreaming?” Aramis was asking the two humans in the attic. He couldn’t hide the grin on his face at the thought of finally being freed from the torture device which was once just a chair.

“It’s actually happening!” Constance squeezed her hands together in delight. She felt as relieved as he did. It had been a horrible experience for all of them but they had all managed to get through it and Aramis was clean once more. “We’ll wait for Porthos and then we’ll let you go.”

Aramis nodded and smiled over at d’Artagnan who was looking a little sheepish having almost backed right into the corner of the attic.

“Aramis, I…”

Aramis immediately shook his head and tutted. “Don’t say anything, it’s fine.”

“No I feel…” d’Artagnan paused and looked down at the floor, his hand coming up so he could chew his thumb. “…embarrassed,” he mumbled around his fingers.

“It’s fine,” Aramis said again, this time with a slight chuckle of amusement. “I won’t tell anyone what you did, I promise.”

Constance looked between the two of them confused. “What did he do?” she asked curiously.

“Nothing,” Aramis insisted. “I will never tell you that d’Artagnan snuck up here yesterday whilst Porthos was cooking dinner and tried to seduce me.”

“Aramis!” D’Artagnan cried, his hand flying away, utterly mortified. “Oh my god you just told her!”

“What?” Aramis asked, trying to look innocent even though he was always anything but. “It’s only Constance, it’s not like Porthos knows. Porthos is the one who will remove your testicles for it.”

Constance felt a little shocked and also guilty because she hadn’t been around that evening to supervise the boys.

“Anyway,” Aramis continued. “Thankfully you caught me in a rather honourable mood so I was able to talk you out of it. Still, I enjoyed the kissing, especially when you did that thing with your tongue...”

“Aramis!” D’Artagnan yelled again and then placed his hand over his face in an act of sheer mortification. Thankfully heavy foot-steps approached the attic which quickly shut Aramis up, although the vampire was still chuckling when Porthos came in. Porthos had a huge grin on his face.

“You ready?” he asked, going over to Aramis in the chair.

“I was ready days ago. I was ready before I was even born. Please get me out of this thing before the chair and I merge into one strange half-metal half-vampire being.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that,” Porthos said with a heap of tenderness. He knelt down and started undoing the ties around Aramis’ feet. Constance came over to help. She undid the buckles around his wrists and, the second he was untied, he immediately stretched out all of his limbs and let out a very loud groan of contentment.

“Oh this is the best thing ever,” he sighed, smiling again as he wiggled his legs around.

“Just don’t try and get up too…”

Porthos’ words were cut short by Aramis jumping up out of the chair and, predictably, his legs immediately giving way. Thankfully Porthos was prepared for it and he caught the vampire in his arms. D’Artagnan had also managed to run over from the corner of the attic to grab Aramis’ and help but Porthos looked at him and growled, which made d’Artagnan back off.

“Sorry,” Aramis said with a smile, really quite enjoying being so close to Porthos finally. Actually managing to touch Porthos with his own hands. “Just a little excited.”

“You idiot. You’ve been in a chair for days. Don’t run before you can walk.”

“I’m a vampire, give me a few minutes and I’ll be skipping around the house like a lunatic.”

“Nah-ah,” Porthos said sternly. “You’re going to have a bath first. As much as I love you I can’t stand the way you smell right now. You’re offending my sensitive nose. Come on.”

Porthos held onto Aramis until the vampire was a little steadier on his feet and then they carefully walked down the steps and headed towards the bathroom. Aramis was delighted when he discovered the smell of the strawberry bubble-bath.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see water before,” Aramis announced as Porthos finally let go of him so he could pull off the sweater which had been his companion for the last four days. He was now completely healed, there wasn’t even a single mark on his skin to indicate what he had been through. He smiled at Porthos. “Are you going to join me?”

“I..errr…” The request shocked Porthos. He hadn’t even thought about sharing the bath with Aramis. He was expecting to just help Aramis into the tub and then give him some privacy.

Aramis chuckled as he noticed how confused Porthos looked. “Calm down. I’m not suggesting we make mad passionate love in the bath. I thought it would just be nice to hold each other. I’ve been desperate to touch you properly for days.”

Aramis gave Porthos a bit of a pout and Porthos knew right then that he was going to give in. When Aramis wanted something, he got it, especially when he used those big brown pleading eyes.

Porthos smiled a little. “Alright. But as long as we do just…hold each other. You might be better but you’ve been tied to that chair for a while. You’ll be weak.”

“I know, I know,” Aramis said and brushed Porthos’ mothering away with his hand as he bent down to shove his sweat-pants off. “I will try and restrain myself from your animal magnetism for a few hours.”

Porthos decided that ‘a few hours’ was better than nothing but when Aramis kicked his clothes off and stood in the bathroom naked he started to question if he was going to be-able to behave himself for a few hours. He swallowed and found himself unable to stop his eyes from staring at the vampire’s body. Aramis’ skin was pale and his muscles were well-defined. He was quite smooth compared to the rest of them but there was a soft coating of hair which covered his chest and the middle of his stomach. It seemed to point down to his…Porthos coughed and immediately pulled his gaze away. Only he removed them from gawping at Aramis’ crotch to look up at Aramis’ face. The vampire was smirking.

“I don’t mind you looking,” he said which made Porthos snort and shake his head. Porthos knew Aramis was a flirt but it was a new experience having the flirtation aimed in his direction. “I’m going to look at you,” Aramis openly admitted. Porthos felt a little flustered but he at least had the sense to turn and lock the bathroom door. The last thing they needed was Constance popping her head in to make sure that Aramis was okay.

“Alright,” Porthos said realising that, if they were going to share a bath, Aramis seeing him naked was clearly going to be part of the process. So Porthos sighed and, somewhat embarrassed, began to get undress. Aramis was watching and not even hiding the fact he was. In fact he was smiling and his eyes went wide when Porthos stepped out of his underwear.

“Wow,” Aramis muttered, his grin getting larger.

Wow? Wow would do, Porthos decided. There were worse reactions in the world. Aramis reached out for Porthos’ hand and Porthos took it. The vampire pulled him closer until their naked bodies were almost touching.

“I don’t deserve you,” Aramis said but, before Porthos had the chance to correct him, the vampire went up on his tip-toes and kissed Porthos tenderly. Porthos was very aware of their state of undress as they kissed and had to force himself not to reach out and grope Aramis. Thankfully the vampire was the one who pulled their lips apart and smiled as he continued to hold onto Porthos’ hand. He lifted his leg up and climbed into the bath-tub. Porthos soon joined the vampire and sat behind him, allowing Aramis to lean back against his chest.

Aramis immediately closed his eyes and seemed to be enjoying his new state of bliss and Porthos…Porthos was just desperately trying not to get an erection.

\------------------------------------

“Athos?” D’Artagnan called as he knocked on the ghost’s bedroom door. Constance seemed a little pissed off with him, Porthos was really pissed off with him and d'Artagnan didn’t think that either of them were being fair. He had saved Aramis’ life and it wasn’t his fault that the side-effect of that was having a rather overwhelming crush on the vampire. But women were complicated and werewolves were complicated so d’Artagnan decided to seek refuge with the Athos. He liked Athos, a lot, even though he wasn’t always sure if Athos liked him but Athos often tolerated him which was good enough for the moment.

However the ghost wasn’t answering as d’Artagnan continued to knock.

“Are you even in there?” he asked wondering if, perhaps, Athos had gone out. He pushed on the door-handle and opened it up to discover the small room dark due to the curtains being drawn. He assumed that Athos wasn’t there but then, just as he was about to close the door, he noticed a shadowy figure sitting in the middle of the room on the carpet.

“Athos?” D’Artangan called curiously. He pushed the door fully open again and took a tentatively step inside. “Are you alright?”

As he got closer he could see the ghost better and noticed that Athos had his head lowered.

“You shouldn’t sit on your own in the dark,” he told Athos and went over to kneel on the bed and open up the curtains. It was the middle of the morning and he didn’t understand why Athos would want to sit in the dark. Even though it was a cloudy day, light immediately poured into the room and suddenly it felt a lot less eerie.

As he climbed back off the bed he felt something scrunch underneath his sock and looked down to discover that there was paper everywhere. Pages ripped out from the book Athos had been collecting about his ex-wife were all over the floor of the bedroom. D’Artagnan immediately stepped back to stop himself standing on it, although it was hard to avoid considering the paper was all over the place. D’Artagnan looked at Athos once again now feeling concerned.

“What are you doing? Why did you rip your book up?”

The human got down onto his knees and began collecting up all of the pages. Or he did until a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him. At first he felt a ghostly chill before the warmth of the ghost’s fingers soothed it.

D’Artagnan slowly turned his head to look at Athos again. There was a wildness in the ghost’ eyes that he hadn’t seen before but a sadness also. He briefly wondered if Athos was having a break-down. He wasn’t sure if he should go and fetch the other two.

“I can’t figure it out…” Athos began to stay. “…I can’t figure it out. These murders, all these clues. I’ve tried to work out why them but I can’t figure it out. I don’t understand what these people have in common, I don’t understand what she’s doing. I can’t figure it out...”

Athos was babbling but he let go of d’Artagnan’s hand to finger some of the papers, pushing them around in a way that made no sense to d’Artagnan as he watched.

“I know,” he eventually said, trying to reassure the ghost. “It’ll be alright. We’ll find her.”

“How?” Athos asked but he was looking down at the floor, still moving it all around in a way that appeared chaotic. “How? She could be anywhere….she could be anywhere. But the clues…there’s something in here, I know there is. But I can’t figure it out.”

“Then let me help you,” d’Artagnan said and moved to sit down on the floor with Athos, deciding that he should try and help. “These business men you said died from a single stab wound to the chest. You think they’re connected to her. Why?”

Athos’ face suddenly seemed to light up; like he had a mission now and his confused thoughts were focusing again. He turned his head to search amongst all the paper, pulling out bits and passing them over to d’Artagnan. “It wasn’t a knife, too thin. The forensic pathology report for both of the murders stated that they were killed by a single stab wound in the chest but not from a knife. They didn’t know what weapon was used but suspected it was a letter opener or large hair-pin. Just like your father. And no defensive wounds just a precise stab wound right into the heart. Just….”

“…like my father,” d’Artagnan interrupted. He knew how his father was killed. He’d read that report quite a few times. “They do all sound remarkably familiar. So these two businessmen, who were they?”

“Well that’s the odd thing,” Athos was pointing at a piece of paper and d’Artagnan looked down. It was covered in scribbled and mostly unreadable hand-writing. “I can’t find anything which connects the pair of them apart from the fact they both had well-paid jobs. According to the newspaper articles one was a married man who had two small children and worked in the banking world. And the other a single guy who was a very keen cyclist and worked in insurance. There’s nothing which connects either of the men, nothing which connects them to her and no reason as to why she’d want to kill them.”

“Maybe focusing on her is the wrong way to do it,” d’Artagnan suggested. “Maybe we need to shift our focus from her to these two men.”

Athos started to smile at d’Artagnan and d’Artagnan smiled back, pleased that Athos seemed to appreciating his help.

“So, come on,” d’Artagnan said. “Let’s find out everything about them. Which gym they went to, who were their friends, which restaurants they ate at. We need to find out if they have anything in common.”

“Yes, yes!” Athos said, suddenly a lot more animated but then his mood quickly deflated again. “But, how do we find such things out?”

“Oh, Athos,” d’Artagnan said with a very pleased grin. “Don’t you know about facebook?”

\-------------------------------

“Ninon’s gone,” Porthos explained as he started rubbing the herbal shampoo into Aramis’ hair.

“Ah,” the vampire said, as his head bobbed around. He was thoroughly enjoying Porthos’ gentle ministrations. “I was wondering why I hadn’t seen her. Gone where?”

Porthos grunted. “Gone to help another ghost or something. Who tells her this stuff? Who does she work for?”

Aramis shrugged. “I don’t understand the ghost world very much. I’ve seen the doors appear when someone dies. I’m not sure you’d be-able to see them, it’s probably just something vampires and dead people can see. Most people, when they die, they become a ghost for just a couple of minutes before walking straight through their door. But a few ghosts hang around, as we know. I’ve never got close to a door. They’re…eerie…scary…I can’t quite describe it. They frighten me. But I think, to the person who is meant to walk through, they feel different; warm, friendly and like home. Most humans seem happy to walk through them. I don’t know who controls the doors and I don’t know who controls Ninon and I have a feeling that I don’t particularly want to know.”

“But she’s nice…Ninon I mean,” Porthos said as he massaged Aramis’ scalp slowly with his fingers. He was enjoying the physical contact as much as Aramis. “And she’s kinda feisty. She doesn’t act like someone has control over her, you know?”

“Yeah I don’t really understand it. She might have told Athos more.” Aramis paused for a moment as something suddenly occurred to him. “Is Athos upset that she’s gone?”

Porthos let out a sigh. He still felt bad for not realising that Ninon had gone. He felt bad that Athos didn’t feel like he could talk to them about it. “Who knows with him. He ain’t exactly one for expressing his emotions, is he?”

“No, no he isn’t. You know I’ve not even told him what I found out about his ex-wife from Anne. I completely forgot.”

Porthos’ fingers stiffened a little in Aramis’ curls at the mention of the queen’s name. He really hoped that Aramis wasn’t going to race off and see her again.

“What did she say?” he asked tentatively.

“That Milady is in France and she has been getting friendly with some of the vampires.”

“Why would she be getting friendly with vampires?”

“I don’t know,” Aramis admitted. “I heard rumours that she used to keep them as pets. Maybe she’s collecting again. I’d better watch out, I’d make a very cute lap-dog.”

Porthos snorted and removed his hands. “Get your hair wet,” he ordered and Aramis shuffled forward in the bath-tub before sinking back and dunking his head into the warm water right above Porthos’ lap. He smiled up at Porthos as he did so and Porthos helped him wash the shampoo out.

“No, seriously,” Aramis began from his position in the water. “She probably just wants to make sure that she’s connected somehow and back in the game. If something big kicks off between vampires and werewolves, witches tend to be quite useful and I bet she knows that.”

“Do you think something big is gonna kick off?” Porthos asked concerned as Aramis sat back up, wiping his wet hair away from his face. “Did we start that?”

“No I think it was happening anyway. What will happen will be bigger than what we did, bigger than us.”

“Then we should stay as far away from it as possible,” Porthos said with a worried frown. Aramis turned in the bath to face him.

“Say that to me again when your old pack are under attack. You’re too loyal for your own good, Porthos. You’re the one who won’t be-able to stay away. I’ll be the one pulling _you_ back.”

Whilst Aramis sounded like he was teasing there was a serious underlying tone to what he was saying. Porthos wanted to tell Aramis that he was wrong but he wasn’t entirely sure that was the case. If his old pack ever got into trouble, he would be the first running to help.

Aramis smiled at him knowingly and then leaned forward, closing his eyes before pressing his lips against Porthos’. He sighed happily as he reached up and cupped Porthos’ jaw, opening his mouth a little wider and letting his cold tongue prise open Porthos’ lips.

They stayed in the bathtub kissing until the water started turning cold. It was only then that they both reluctantly got out. After drying themselves briefly with towels which they then wrapped around their naked waists, they soon they found themselves in Aramis’ bedroom as the vampire searched his wardrobe for something to wear.

“Constance has been in here, hasn’t she? My clothes are all clean, ironed and in colour order.”

Porthos chuckled as he sat on the bed and watched. “Yeah, sorry. She decided that you being tied-up in the attic gave her the perfect opportunity to spring-clean your room.”

Aramis pulled out some expensive jeans and a crisp ironed shirt, clearly pleased to wear something different finally. He got himself dressed as Porthos watched, just to make sure Aramis was alright and didn’t need his help, not because he wanted to gawp although he was gawping a tiny bit.

“We should set her up with d’Artagnan,” Aramis said, as he did up the buttons of his shirt. “She needs to forget about Athos, he isn’t right for her. Too…grumpy and dead. She needs someone who will make her laugh all the time. D’Artagnan would do that and he’s a very good kisser.”

Porthos suddenly scowled. “How the fuck do you know that he’s a good…”

Before Porthos had the chance to finish the question the door flew open and the human in question almost fell into the room.

“Squash!”

They both looked at the human confused but it was Porthos who found his voice first.

“Huh?”

“Squash! It’s the connection!”

Aramis rolled his eyes and closed his underwear drawer. “It’s a good thing we weren’t in here having rampant anal sex wasn’t it, d’Artagnan?”

The question made Porthos blush and caused d’Artagnan to pause for a moment before he shook the shocking but not completely unpleasant image out of his head. It was only then that the other two spotted Athos lingering in the door-way.

“The two men Milady killed. We found a connection between them both. They both belonged to the same squash club.”

“Ah,” Aramis said and popped opened open his hair-gel, pouring a little into his fingers before swiping it through his damp curls.

“We need to go there and find out more about them,” d’Artagnan continued to explain.

Porthos rolled his eyes and then looked down to check that his towel was done up properly now that they had an audience. “Go to a squash club and ask about their two murdered members who were killed by a witch?”

“Yes!” D’Artagnan said with a happy grin which faded slightly when he actually thought about what Porthos had just said. “Although, perhaps, not in that exact way.”

Athos finally stepped foot inside the bedroom and spoke up. “Neither of you two need to do anything. This is something that d’Artagnan and I have chosen to be a part of. You should both stay out of it. D’Artagnan and I are both perfectly capable of…”

“Oh nonsense,” Aramis said, cutting in as he finished styling with his hair and turned to look over at the ghost. “You two are perfectly capable of getting into trouble. We’re all in this together and we’ll help you as much as we can. Anne told me that Milady was in France and that she was being friendly with some of the vampires. That’s all she knew though and she doesn’t know which vampires. We were going to try and find out before the whole kidnapping business happened. Hey…” Aramis suddenly looked at each of them in turn. “…what happened to Bonnaire?”

They all gave him a shrug because none of them knew.

“Maybe we can go to the squash courts on Monday?” d’Artagnan suggested. “Because Porthos and I are both working over the next couple of days but I have Monday off.”

Aramis’ head immediately turned to Porthos and he looked shocked. “You have a job?”

Porthos sighed. He had been meaning to tell Aramis but he wanted to wait until Aramis was out of the chair, which he was now so he didn’t have an excuse to hide it from the vampire any longer. “Yeah I…I mean Treville has put d’Artagnan into the kitchen to help the chef so he offered me the part-time barman post. We need the money so I didn’t wanna turn it down. I'm starting today. Athos will stay with you.”

Aramis seemed upset although he tried to hide it by turning away and re-opening his wardrobe again. “Yeah, it’s okay. That’s nice of him,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry I…” Porthos stood, holding onto his towel just in case. “…it can just be a temporary thing. Maybe we can find something to do together again?”

“Yeah, okay,” Aramis muttered but he seemed to be playing around rearranging his clothes and ruining the colour order which Constance had put them into. Although she couldn’t have taken that long to do it considering half of Aramis’ clothes were black. Porthos sighed and shot daggers over to d’Artagnan for good measure but the human didn’t seem to understand what he had done wrong. He was turning to look back over his shoulder at the ghost.

“Monday, see? We’ll go and investigate on Monday,” he said with a reassuring smile. Athos nodded but he wasn’t smiling back.

A couple of hours later Porthos was in the kitchen with the ghost giving him the ‘keep an eye on Aramis, especially now’ talk whilst d’Artagnan was in the living-room with Aramis giving him a ‘keep an eye on Athos, especially now’ talk. Both Aramis and Athos listened, nodded but were very grateful when they were left alone in the house.

Athos pottered into the living-room and sat down next to Aramis on the large sofa, holding out a bowl of M&Ms for him. Aramis took the bowl with a grin and things, for a brief moment, felt back to normal.

“So, about those Star Wars films…” Athos began but Aramis soon cut him off.

“Oh forget those, you didn't even like the first one. I’ve actually thought of something you're going to love.”

Athos looked interested as Aramis jumped up off the sofa to go and collect the box-set Constance had left for them. “It’s called...Downton Abbey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm posting this chapter a little early because I'm off on holiday tomorrow. I will have some wi-fi so I can read fics but I won't be posting another chapter of this until I get back in a couple of weeks. And that's why I decided to be kind and not leave you with a cruel cliffhanger for a change!]


	22. Rochefort is a bastard

When Monday finally arrived Athos and d’Artagnan waited for Aramis to re-emerge outside a very exclusive gym which had glass walls and immaculately pruned hedges. Eventually the vampire did, rubbing his cold hands together in the frosty winter air as he walked over to them.

“So it seems you have to pay quite a high joining fee in order to run around a small court in white shorts hitting a ball against the wall.”

Athos raised his eyebrow. “How much?”

“A hundred and eighty euros a month to join the gym and have access to the clubs and they won’t even let you sign up unless you pay three months in advance.”

D’Artagnan made a rather loud whining noise like a teenager about to throw a tantrum. “We can’t even afford that. We can barely afford to eat. What are we going to do?”

Aramis grinned and produced some paper from the pocket of his leather jacket. He unfolded it all carefully.

“What’s that?” D'Artagnan asked as he leaned over to try and have a look. “A joining form?”

Aramis shook his head and waited for d’Artagnan to read the top properly. “Application form...what have you got that for?”

“They’re looking for a man to work in their spa to even up the gender balance a bit,” the vampire explained. “And, if I work in the spa, I get free access to the gym and all of the sports clubs.”

D’Artagnan’s eyes lit up in glee but Athos had a different reaction and frowned. “Really, Aramis? What do you know about working in a spa?”

“Nothing I can’t learn from youtube and, as it happens, I’m very good at giving massages.”

The vampire started walking off so Athos went after him. “Are you mad?! You’ll be with half naked people all day long. Touching their skin, feeling their pulses, smelling their blood. This is the worst job you could ever have.”

“I’ll be fine,” Aramis said with an added tut as he continued his journey home on foot.

“You will not be fine,” Athos insisted. “Why put yourself in front of temptation like that? This is a ridiculous idea. We’ll think of something else.”

“Athos,” Aramis spun around to face the ghost. “I need a job. He has a job…” he pointed over at d'Artagnan who was lagging behind them to stay out of their way. “…Porthos has a job. I want to pull my weight too. You can’t because no-one can see you but I can.”

Athos sighed, he did understand. He knew that Aramis was just trying to be helpful, again, with getting a job and discovering more about the men who were murdered but Athos also knew that Aramis working in a spa was a ridiculously bad idea and he didn’t understand why Aramis couldn’t see that.

“As much as I love spending all day with you watching Downton Abbey and discussing the class struggle in war-time England,” Aramis continued. “I need to feel normal. Working is what normal people do.”

“I know it’s just…” Athos tried to sound as calm and as supportive as he could despite the fact he wanted to yell. “…you’re confusing what d’Artagnan and I need with your desire to work. You don’t have to merge them both. There are other ways we can find out information about the men.”

The vampire shook his head and started walking again. Athos rolled his eyes and glanced behind his shoulder at d’Artagnan.

“I need wine. You will have to drink wine for me,” he said before storming off to follow Aramis.

D’Artagnan sighed, “Oh no, not again.”

\---------------------------------

Whilst Athos was at home getting d’Artagnan and, therefore by default, himself drunk, Aramis was sitting on a bar-stool at The Garrison filling in the application form. Porthos was standing behind the bar drying off some of the beer glasses.

“You really want to work in a spa?” he asked, questioning the sudden and somewhat bizarre change in career.

“It’s a job,” Aramis said and then seemed to think for a moment before scribbling down something else. “I’ll get Constance to email some fake references and it seems d’Artagnan studied graphic design in college so he’s going to forge a certificate for me.”

Porthos sighed and shook his head but he wasn’t going to talk Aramis out of it. The vampire seemed quite determined to apply. He suspected that, once they found out he knew nothing about facial masks, he wouldn’t get the job anyway. Treville soon re-emerged from the cellar after changing a keg. He closed the trap-door and went over to Porthos.

“Next time that happens you should come down with me and I’ll show you how to do it,” he said to the werewolf who nodded. He was very grateful to Treville for giving him the job and had started to really like the man. Treville looked at Aramis who was still writing on the form.

“Hey, if you need any help with that then...”

“I’m fine,” Aramis cut in, picked up the form and then walked away towards one of the tables. Treville watched him go.

“Is he angry with me about something?” he asked Porthos.

Porthos gave a little shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”

Back at the house Athos decided to let d’Artagnan stop drinking after the young man's third visit to the bathroom. The human seemed to have a mystery tube which took the wine straight from his throat to his bladder.

So they eventually just settled sprawled together over the sofa, Athos had his hand on d’Artagnan’s bare wrist to enjoy the after-effects of the alcohol. It was close to the real feeling but it wasn’t the same. Athos missed wine. He was also starting to miss eating, needing sleep, speaking to people and he really missed having a life outside of the rented house they all shared. He envied the others for how well they could blend into normal society; something he was unable to do.

“When do’ya think my feelings for ‘Amis will stop?” d’Artagnan slurred as he lay slouched on the large seat.

“What?” Athos asked, he could barely understand what the human was saying, a problem made worse after the fourth glass of wine.

“When do you think my feelings for Aramis will stop?” he asked again, this time trying to at least make his wording clearer.

Athos turned to look at the human. “I was under the impressed that they had?” he asked, curiously.

D’Artagnan shook his head from side to side. “Nope. I’m still having dreams about him and stuff and, whenever I see him, I go tingly all over.”

Athos promptly removed his hand from d’Artagnan’s wrist. He wanted the drunk feeling, he didn’t want to feel tingly about Aramis. Although he couldn’t deny that there wasn’t the odd occasion when Aramis gave him a tingly feeling too.

“I don’t know, d’Artagnan,” Athos said, now feeling stone cold and harshly sober…which was disappointing. “I was under the belief that your desires should only last a few days so I am certain that they will stop soon.”

“Okay,” d’Artagnan said and then heaved out a drunk sigh. Athos rubbed his fingers over his thumb where he had lost the connection with d’Artagnan and was soon distracted by his own thoughts. He was thinking about Ninon. There was still so much that she had to teach him about his abilities as a ghost. He still had so many questions. He wished that she would return.

“Athos?” d’Artagnan said and Athos was beginning to realise that, as it was his fault the human was drunk, he was now unfortunately obligated to stay with him.

“Yes, d’Artagnan?” he asked, despite the fact he wasn’t very interested in having a drunken conversation with the lad.

“Do you know who else I get tingly feelings about?”

“…please don’t say me.”

“No,” d’Artagan snorted and then chuckled. “Constance but I think she likes you. Tis all very complicated, isn’t it?”

“I don’t really think about it,” Athos told him, because it was true. He wasn’t even aware that Constance _liked_ him.

D’Artagnan turned his head to look at Athos and appeared to study him for a while. “No, you really don’t, do you?”

Athos was starting to feel uncomfortable about the topic of conversation so reached out for the TV remote and decided to find some awful sci-fi show which would no doubt distracted the drunk human from saying such ridiculous things.

Eventually Aramis and Porthos came home but they didn’t linger in the living-room for long, they soon disappeared upstairs which left Athos babysitting the snoring drunk human. He eventually went to fetch a blanket and covered d’Artangnan with it. The lad looked very peaceful and had a silly smile on his face which made Athos worry what he was dreaming about.

Upstairs Aramis had straddled Porthos’ lap and was kissing the life out of him. Porthos smiled against the cold lips and kissed him back. They had done a lot of kissing over the past few days and a lot of groping, a lot of flirting and a lot of teasing. However, apart from their shared bath, their clothes always remained on. Porthos was starting to worry about it but then decided that it was ridiculous to worry. Going slow wasn’t a bad thing, if that was what Aramis wanted. Only Aramis always appeared to give the impression that sex was the best thing on the planet and he was quite the expert, so why was he holding back?

Porthos reached out and experimented by placing his large hands on Aramis’ arse and giving his rounded cheeks a firm squeeze. The action made Aramis wiggle on his lap and groan into his mouth, his icy tongue pushing against Porthos' even harder. Porthos started to massage Aramis which made the vampire wiggle about even more, thrusting forward to rub his groin against Porthos’ lap and then pushing back against the werewolves hands. The way Aramis was moving and grinding was sending blood straight between Porthos’ legs and his arousal was starting to push up against his trousers.

He gave Aramis one last squeeze before moving his hands to the front of the vampire’s dark jeans and popping open the button. Then he suddenly felt cold fingers tugging his hand away.

“No,” Aramis whispered against his lips. Porthos felt disappointed but stopped and slowly placed his hand back on Aramis’ arse instead, hoping that was still okay. They resumed their kissing and Aramis began to rub up and down again. Porthos continued to feel frustrated until he eventually pulled away and, panting, he looked up at Aramis.

“Everything is alright, isn’t it?”

Aramis was panting as well as he looked down at the werewolf. His lips were pinker than their usual shade of pale.

“Yes, yes. Why do you ask?”

Porthos let himself shrug. He felt embarrassed about mentioning it to Aramis but, if things were going to continue, then they needed to learn how to express their feelings. So, with a deep breath in, he decided to try.

“I just feel like you don’t want to go any further and that’s fine, really it is. I don’t want to rush either. But it seems like you….I don’t know.”

Aramis suddenly sighed and placed his hands on Porthos’ chest to push himself off the werewolves lap and sit further down his thighs.

“I’m sorry,” he said, he had known that Porthos was going to say something eventually. He had been waiting for the conversation although that didn’t mean it was going to be an easy one. Especially when he was surprising himself at how much he was holding back. “I’m just…worried about it.”

Finally, Porthos thought, Aramis was being honest. “What are you worried about, love?” he asked, the term of endearment slipping easily from his mouth.

“I get…” Aramis paused for a moment, his eyes darting around the room as if he was hoping to find the right words on the walls somewhere. Eventually he looked back at Porthos, clearly feeling awkward. He could barely look his lover in the eyes. “…carried away sometimes.”

Porthos felt confused and he ended up snorting a little in amusement. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

“No I mean…” Aramis paused again, he was getting increasingly frustrated with himself, Porthos could tell by the way he was fidgeting about on his lap like he had ants in his pants.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Porthos encouraged, reaching out to give Aramis' thigh a stroke to calm him down. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

With a slow nod Aramis calmed himself down before he spoke. “When I’m really turned-on around humans my teeth sometimes come out. I sometimes come so close to biting them that I have to stop. Back in the past, when I cared less about stopping, I fed a lot that way." He paused for a moment before blurting out... "I'm worried about biting you.”

Porthos reached up and placed his hands on Aramis’ arms, needing more physical contact to try and soothe the vampire from his fears.

“You won’t bite me,” Porthos said, almost chuckling. “You’ve never even tried. My blood is poisonous to you. Why would you bite me?”

“I can’t help myself, can I?” Aramis said, the warm werewolf hands doing nothing to make him feel any better. In fact he moved back further on Porthos’ legs a little to get away from them. “It just happens. It’s like a physical reaction. I try to control it but it’s difficult. I don’t know if I’d try to bite you. I’ve never been with a werewolf before.”

Porthos nodded, trying to show that he understood but, in his head he was trying to process what it meant. Did it mean that Aramis would never want to…? Aramis sighed and then swung his leg off Porthos and climbed off the bed. Porthos suddenly felt guilty, quite certain that Aramis had seen his disappointment on his face.

“Hey it’s okay,” Porthos said, moving himself, trying to ignoring the aching need in his trousers to swing his legs over the bed and perch on the edge. “We’ll just take things slow. See what happens, yeah?”

Aramis nodded, although he wouldn’t look at Porthos, he was turning on his ipad.

“Come back to bed, Aramis,” Porthos pleaded. He no longer cared about sex. He just wanted to hold him. Aramis appeared to think about it but then closed his ipad again and walked back over to Porthos. Porthos held out his arms for him and Aramis immediately fell into them. Then, after a rather clumsy fumble to shed some clothes, they both crawled into bed and underneath the duvet.

“I love you,” Porthos whispered into the darkness. “I love you and nothing will ever change that,” he promised the mop of dark curls which were on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Aramis whispered back.

\-----------------------------------

A couple of weeks later Aramis was offered the job, much to the mortification of Athos and Porthos. D’Artagnan, however, seemed overjoyed.

“That’s amazing! Well done. You must have really impressed them.”

Aramis was grinning in the kitchen still having the phone in his hand after receiving the news.

“Well the interview panel was two women, of course I impressed them.”

He winked at d’Artagnan and Athos noticed the blush which formed on d’Artagnan’s cheeks as the human turned away and quickly busied himself with making lunch. Everything was just going horribly wrong, Athos decided.

“You cannot accept,” he informed the vampire. Porthos was being too supportive and polite to say anything but Athos was less concerned about upsetting Aramis.

“I already have accepted,” Aramis pointed out, opening some of the kitchen cupboards in search of junk food. Whatever d’Artagnan was making was far too healthy for him.

“Aramis,” Athos snapped firmly. “You cannot spend your days giving pedicures and massages. That is the most ridiculous idea ever. There are so many other jobs which would be far better suited.”

Aramis made a tutting noise as he pulled out a chocolate muffin. “If it was down to you, Athos, I’d be working in a lighthouse a million miles from any human.”

“That’s not fair,” Athos pointed out. “I never said that. But there are plenty of jobs where you won’t spend your entire day with your hands all over humans.”

Aramis spun around suddenly and smirked at the ghost. “Jealous?”

Athos sighed, exasperated, and turned to Porthos for help. The werewolf, however, was looking slightly sheepish and gave Athos an apologetic shrug. “We can’t talk to him out of it, all we can do is support him,” Porthos suggested, glancing over to the vampire just to check he had said the right thing. By the beam on the vampire’s face he knew that he had. Unfortunately the lack of support just upset the ghost even more.

“You are all insane,” he noted, standing up from the table.

“I’m doing this for you, remember?” Aramis said with a mouthful of muffin. “I’m going to join that squash club and find out about those men who were murdered.”

“I don’t want you to!” Athos suddenly snapped. “I don’t need your help!” And, with that, the ghost suddenly vanished into thin air. It left the rest of them looking at each other rather speechless. Even Aramis looked shocked because Athos had never yelled at him before.

D’Artagnan sighed sadly and stopped making his salad. He left the other two in the kitchen and went upstairs to see if Athos had transported himself into his room. He knocked on the door and leaned against it.

“Hey, you in there?” he asked gently and pushed the handle down to open the door. The room was dark as usual but d’Artagnan saw Athos sitting on the floor beside his bed, his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking himself back and forth slightly.

“Athos?” he called and went in. He immediately got down onto his knees in front of the ghost and reached out to touch his arm to stop him from rocking but his hand just passed straight through.

“Athos!” he gasped. He could see the bed-sheets behind Athos as the ghost started to become transparent. What was happening?! “ATHOS?!” He tried to grab Athos’ clothes but his hands just couldn’t get a grip. His fingers disappeared through the ghost like he wasn’t there at all.

“What’s happening to you?!” D’Artagnan shouted, panicking. Athos was slowly disappearing in front of his eyes. He looked over his shoulder at the door and yelled as loudly as he could. “ARAMIS! PORTHOS!”

He could soon hear the stampede of feet coming up the stairs so he turned back to look at the ghost. The man’s eyes looked so painfully vacant as he continued to rock himself.

“What’s wrong?” D’Artagnan asked the ghost pleadingly, he couldn’t hold back the tears which were starting to fill his eyes. “Athos, please look at me.”

The other two soon burst into the room.

“What is it?” Porthos immediately asked.

“Look,” d’Artaganan said, opening crying now. Tears rolling down his face as he pointed to Athos who was now only half there. He was fading away.

“What?” Aramis asked, looking a little confused but Porthos reacted immediately.

“No,” he gasped and moved closed, he fell down onto his knees next to d’Artagnan and stared at the ghost. “He’s going…he can’t be going. Athos!” He reached out and tried to grab the ghost but his hand also just went straight though and his fingers ended up hitting the bed. “Fuck, Athos, can you hear me?”

Athos didn’t appear to hear anyone. He did stop moving though only to remain with his arms around his legs, looking expressionless.

Aramis, however, still hadn’t moved. “He’s not going. There’s no door.”

“Then why the fuck is he fading?” Porthos asked the vampire.

It all suddenly clicked inside Aramis’ head and he abruptly marched over to them all. “He's just fading to you.” Aramis reached down and grabbed Athos by the jumper and, with his vampire strength, pulled the ghost up to his feet like he weighed nothing. He had no problem touching the dead man. He got a firm grip of Athos’ jumper and pulled him close until their faces were inches apart.

“Athos,” he said, looking directly at the ghost. “Stop this, you’re scaring them.”

Athos didn’t appear to react at first, he just looked straight past Aramis like he wasn’t even aware of his presence. So Aramis shook him furiously, until the ghost’s head was snapping back and forth.

“Athos, stop. Enough.” Aramis stopped shaking him to see if he had elicited a reaction but Athos was just staring blankly at nothing. So Aramis sighed upon realising he’d have to do something a little more drastic. He raised his arm and slapped Athos hard across the face. The shock of the slap made Athos’ eyes suddenly dart around.

“Wake up, that’s it, come back,” Aramis whispered, trying to catch his gaze as his fingers went back to gripping the jumper. Athos eventually looked at the vampire seemed to study Aramis for a while until recognition came back to his features. Then he looked a little bewildered.

Aramis let go of his jumper and suddenly wrapped his arms around the ghost, pulling the ghost against his chest to hold him tightly. Athos didn’t really hug him back but his hands did settle on the vampire’s hips.

D’Artagnan slowly got up onto unsteady feet and stepped closer. He reached out tentatively to the hugging pair and pressed his fingers against Athos' arm. Athos felt solid again. It made d’Artagnan smile amongst the tears. Porthos just stayed on his knees but breathed a sigh of relief.

“Don’t do that again,” Aramis whispered into Athos’ ear and then gently let go of the ghost. Athos still looked a little disorientated. Aramis kept reassuring hands on the ghost’s arms just to steady him.

“I..I…what happened?” he mumbled.

“You just slipped away for a moment,” Aramis explained, although it wasn’t really explaining much. “But you’re back now.” He smiled reassuring over at the human who was still looking shaken up and staring at Athos like he was terrified that Athos would disappear again.

“I apologise,” Athos said to no-one in particular, his eyes started searching the floor.

“These two love you, alright?” Aramis said, bending down a little to try to catch his gaze again. “If you push away like that then you’ll fade and scare them.”

Athos lifted his head, looked at the vampire and finally started to understand. Sinking into depression meant that he’d lose the connection he shared with the others. The connection which allowed them to see him.

“You did scare me,” d’Artagnan mumbled from close-by. Athos finally turned to look at the lad.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely and, when d’Artagnan suddenly fell forward to wrap his arms around the ghost, Athos let him and even wrapped his arms around the boy back, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m also sorry,” Aramis said as he watched the ghost and human embrace. “I upset you about the job thing. I won’t take it.”

Athos slowly let go of d’Artagnan and turned back to the vampire. He was surprised by the suddenly change in heart.

“I…” Athos didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want Aramis to take the job but he also didn’t want to make Aramis feel like what had just happened was all to do with him. “…I need to trust you. You need to make your own decision,” Athos eventually said.

Aramis nodded, smiled and took the job.

\-----------------------------

Rochefort was a bastard. Aramis had been warned that Rochefort was a bastard and, when he finally met Rochefort, he realised what a bastard the man really was. Rochefort walked around the gym like he owned the place, treating the staff like servants only there to do his bidding.

The problem was Rochefort was an influential bastard with rich friends, most of whom came to the gym. Rochefort was also in the squash club. Aramis couldn’t quite fathom how someone who had an eye-patch over one eye could be good at squash, but he heard that Rochefort often won the internal championship they ran each year. When Aramis managed to sneak up onto the balcony one Tuesday evening to watch Rochefort playing squash he could see why. Rochefort was fast and aggressive. He was a bastard who was good at squash.

Fortunately or perhaps unfortunately, Aramis didn’t have a lot to do with Rochefort as the man spent most of his time in the gym or playing squash. Just as Aramis was musing about how he was going to find out more about the squash club he noticed a name on the spa bookings for the day and immediately pointed it out to Lucie, the spa manager.

“Rochefort has booked in for a massage with me?” he said, very surprised considering he had never even known Rochefort to use the spa until now.

Lucie looked a little apologetic. “Yes, I’m sorry. He heard about our new male masseur and found it…amusing. I was going to warn you but then I thought that you might just get nervous.”

“Why would I get nervous?” he asked, with a smile. He liked Lucie and she had a huge crush on him which meant that he had so far gotten away with the fact he knew very little about his actual job. It was amazing what a bit of flirting could cover.

“Because he’s a bastard,” she warned. Aramis nodded. He knew that Rochefort was a bastard. Still, he was soon to be a bastard underneath his hands. Perhaps he could start up a discussion about the squash club and the two dead men.

When Rochefort came in for his massage Aramis greeted him with all of the politeness he had been taught and led him into a private massage room. Rochefort had sandy blonde hair, icy blue eyes and perhaps could be considered handsome if he didn’t walk around with such a menacing scowl.

Aramis left Rochefort alone in the room for a moment to allow the man to get undressed. So far so good. Rochefort had barely spoken, just been staring at Aramis like he was sizing him up. Outside Aramis attempted to calm himself down. Rochefort gave him the creeps but, still, this was the best opportunity he had been given so far to help Athos and d’Artagnan out. He didn’t want to let them down.

When he went back into the room Rochefort was naked apart from the white towel covering his waist. And there he was, lying on his front, with his arms folded underneath his chin. Aramis turned off the lights, allowing the candles to illuminate the room in a warm glow. He also started the CD of ‘relaxing music’ and got to work covering his hands with scented oil.

Aramis was well aware that he had cold hands. Some of his clients liked it, others weren’t so sure. However, after using a bit of flirtation and charm, he found that they all ended up happy and they also all ended up coming back; much to the delight of Lucie. He hoped that Rochefort wouldn’t complain because Aramis wasn’t sure he could charm Rochefort because Rochefort was such a bastard.

Rochefort remained quiet as he closed his one good eye and Aramis got to work. Usually Aramis would make a bit of polite conversation with his customers to try and get them to relax. He didn’t know what to say to Rochefort but he decided to attempt it.

“Are you having a nice day?” he asked, because it was a start.

“I’m paying you to use your hands, not your mouth,” Rochefort muttered back which was a slight relief to Aramis. Although it did mean that finding out information from the man would be difficult. Perhaps Rochefort wasn’t the right person to talk to. There were many others in the squash club and Aramis was quite sure that a lot of them would be nicer than Rochefort.

Aramis continued to rub the warm oil into Rochefort’s shoulders and back. The heat of the oil went some way to masking the coldness of his hands. Unfortunately Rochefort still noticed.

“Your hands are very cold,” he said dryly.

“Sorry,” Aramis immediately apologised. “Would you like me to heat up the oil a little?”

Rochefort paused for a moment and Aramis got a little worried. Eventually the man on the table spoke.

“No…I quite like it.”

Aramis felt relieved. He didn’t want to make Rochefort angry. If you made Rochefort angry then sometimes you would lose your job. Or at least those were the rumours that Aramis had heard during his lunch-breaks in the cafe.

Rochefort was a bastard but he was a bastard with good skin. Aramis noticed that it was slightly golden as he continued to massage it with his hands. Rochefort let out little moans of delight once in a while. It made Aramis smile because it meant that he was doing a good job. Perhaps now talking wouldn’t be out of the question, especially if Aramis stroked the bastard’s ego a little.

“I hear you’re the squash champion?”

Aramis had been right because he noticed a smile form on Rochefort’s relaxed face. “I’ve won the championship three times out of the last four years, yes.”

“Wow, that’s pretty amazing. I’ve never played squash. I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“Well get a few lessons then come and join our club,” Rochefort said which shocked Aramis more than anything. He had been told that the squash club was particularly exclusive but then it was Rochefort who had just invited him and Rochefort did seem to unofficially run it.

“I’d like that,” Aramis said and smiled. Perhaps Rochefort wasn’t as much of a bastard as the others had….Aramis pulled his hands away as Rochefort suddenly moved. He rolled over from his back onto his front, tugging at the towel to make sure his groin remained covered. Aramis wasn’t entirely sure what the man was doing.

“Carry on then,” Rochefort ordered once he had settled on his back and had placed his arms down beside his naked body.

Aramis paused for a moment. The rule in the spa was face and back massages only, he had never done chests before. Still it was Rochefort and Aramis didn’t want to upset him. So he poured a little more oil onto his fingers and leaned forward to press them against Rochefort’s chest. Rochefort was a lean bastard but he had well defined muscles covering his chest. They twitched a little as Aramis’ hands rubbed over them, massaging gently.

When Aramis moved his hands down to Rochefort’s stomach the man closed his eyes and sighed with satisfaction. Aramis smoothed his hands over Rochefort’s abs, not pressing too hard but just enough to make Rochefort happy. Then he placed the balls of his hand over the hips before pushing his thumbs into the gaps of Rochefort’s hip bones, being a little gentler down there.

“Keep going down,” Rochefort encouraged and Aramis felt confused. Keep going down where? Aramis removed his hands slowly.

“Sorry?” he asked. He didn’t want to upset Rochefort but he didn’t understand what Rochefort was asking as his hands had already got down to the towel.

Rochefort opened his eye and stared up at Aramis. “Keep going,” he requested again, but this time his voice sounded far more serious. “There’s a good lad.”

“I…” What Rochefort wanted suddenly started becoming clear to Aramis. “…I can’t. It’s against the rules,” he informed him. Rochefort remained where he was, lying on his back and looking comfortable.

“Do you like your job, Rene?” he asked calmly. Aramis had used his original name when he applied for the job because he thought it would be sensible. Now Rochefort was calling him by the same name which had been used by his beautiful mother, he was starting to regret that choice.

Aramis remained quiet for a while. He did like his job. He liked working. He liked the fact he was helping the others pay the rent. He liked the fact he was trying to help Athos and d’Artagnan solve the mystery about the men Milady had murdered. He did like his job.

“Y-yes,” came the somewhat hesitant reply from his lips.

“Then keep going. I will not ask again.”

Aramis looked down at the towel and notified the lump which he hadn't seen before and felt sick. He didn't want to pleasure Rochefort. He hadn't even been that intimidate with Porthos yet and Porthos was beautiful, kind, patient and Aramis loved him very much.

“Use a little oil,” Rochefort informed him.

"I..." Aramis now couldn't stop thinking of Porthos and how betrayed Porthos would feel if he found out and how disappointed Porthos would be in him. Was his job really worth all that? And, even if Porthos never found out, Aramis would always have it on his conscious. No, no he couldn’t do it. "...I can't. I'm sorry."

Aramis decided but then flinched. At best he was just expecting to lose his job, at worst he was expecting to witness Rochefort's temper before losing his job. Rochefort, however, just calmly sat up.

“Leave the room,” he ordered and Aramis did so, slamming the door a little louder than he had meant to. He immediately leaned back against the door and heard the shower turn on from inside the room and what he had done suddenly started sinking in. That was it then, back to job hunting. He would have to tell Athos and d'Artagnan that he had let them down. Poor Athos would get depressed again and d'Artagnan would be no closer to finding the woman that murdered his last remaining parent.

“Rene!” he heard his name being yelled from inside the room a short time later. Aramis let out a quick breath to summon up some courage before opening up the door and going back into the room. Rochefort had almost finished dressing.

“I meant what I said about the squash club. Come and join us,” Rochefort said as he slipped on his shoes. He pulled his wallet out and removed a couple of notes. He threw the notes down onto the massage table.

“A tip for your good service,” he said and then walked towards Aramis. He paused in front of him, reached up and stroked Aramis' cheek with the back of his fingers. Aramis stood there perfectly still and nervously waited to see what would happen. All that happened was that Rochefort removed his hand walked out of the room. Aramis stood there shocked. Did that mean he still had his job?


	23. You ruined the moment

When Aramis got home d'Artagnan was telling Athos all about the college course Treville had enrolled him on. He was showing Athos the college prospectus and Athos was acting interested to encourage the young man. D'Artagnan seemed very excited about learning how to be a chef and Athos envied the boy who, despite a horrible start in life, still had so much to look forward to and such a promising future ahead. All Athos had to look forward to was getting his vengeance on Anne and then passing to the afterlife, whatever that was and whatever that meant.

He looked up from his chair when Aramis came into the kitchen and did his usual hunt around for junk-food. A frown seemed to grow on his face as he searched the cupboards.

"Aramis, would you like to see what college I'm going to?" D'Artagnan asked, picking up the college magazine which was on the table in front of Athos.

"Why the fuck is there no food in the house?" Aramis was asking no-one in particular. "I thought Porthos and d'Artagnan got paid?"

"They did," Athos informed the vampire. "But Constance hasn't been around and Constance is the only one who bothers going food shopping."

"Then where the fuck is Constance?" Aramis let out a huff and turned around leaning back against the kitchen counter. Athos could automatically tell that the vampire was in a rotten mood but the human seem oblivious and bounded over to Aramis with the prospectus.

"Look this is the college. I'm going to start in January."

Aramis eyed d'Artagnan up and did glance down at the magazine for two seconds. "Wonderful," he muttered sarcastically but d'Artagnan continued.

"I'm doing a catering course in professional cookery and it includes getting hygiene qualifications and all of that. Gerard is really pleased although he's teaching me a lot of things anyway..."

"Do you know what I feel like eating?" Aramis asked, staring at d'Artagnan as the human waffled on but then slowly stopped. He looked at Aramis' expression and suddenly seemed a little wary.

"What?" d’Artagnan asked cautiously.

"You.”

Blackness seeped into the vampire’s eyes and his fangs came out. He snapped his teeth towards D'Artagnan who jumped, dropped his magazine and fell backwards against the sink.

"Aramis!" Athos yelled and automatically darted up from his seat but Aramis pushed himself away from the kitchen side and stormed off, heading out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Athos sighed and went over to the scared human. He bent down, picked up the magazine and handed it back to him. D'Artagnan was staring at the now empty entrance to the hallway and appeared to be confused.

"He's in a bad mood," Athos explained. "Ignore him."

D'Artagnan took the magazine. "Should I go and talk to him? Check he's okay? See if he needs anything? Comfort him?..."

"No you absolutely should not," Athos snapped quickly then glanced up at the clock. "Anyway you need to be back at work in five minutes so you had better hurry up."

D'Artagnan, brushing off the mini vampire attack like he somehow managed to brush off everything, suddenly gasped and rushed around getting ready. Athos watched as the human disappeared out of the front door. Then Athos looked up at the ceiling to the floor above and sighed. He slowly went upstairs and stood outside Aramis' bedroom. He pondered for a moment if he should wait for Porthos to come home but then he decided that he couldn't just expect Porthos to deal with everything emotions related. So he knocked.

"If you've come to tell me off, don't bother! I know I was a dick!" came the yell from inside the room.

"I have not," Athos promised then paused for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what he as in fact trying to do. "I…just wanted to see if you were alright."

There was silence from inside the room and Athos figured that he had surprised Aramis as much as he had surprised himself. But the door started to creak open and a rather sheepish vampire peered out from behind it.

"I'm fine," Aramis said. "But I appreciate you noticing." Aramis even smiled a little but Athos wasn't convinced.

"I will leave you then," Athos said, figuring that he had done his caring bit. He turned to walk away but the door suddenly swung fully open.

"Wait! I didn't tell you to go," Aramis insisted and Athos felt a tug on the back of his jumper and found himself suddenly being pulled backwards into the bedroom. "Come and keep me company.”

Athos didn't mind, not really, not deep down. He had been so bored during the day with all three of them at work he had watched four episodes of The Tudors in a row. Damn Aramis for showing him how to use Netflix.

Aramis let go of Athos' jumper and quickly started tidying up the duvet and pillows on his bed. Athos watched because, it was such an unusual sight witnessing Aramis tidy-up, that it proved somewhat fascinating.

"Come and lie down," Aramis said once his bed was organised. "I'll practice my massaging on you."

"Aramis, I really don't think..." Athos' protests were cut off by the vampire grabbing his clothes again and tugging him towards the bed. Before Athos really knew what was going on Aramis was pulling his jumper up and Athos automatically lifted his arms to let him. Athos soon stood there topless, suddenly very self-conscious. In fact he found himself crossing his arms across his chest in an attempt to hide his nipples but Aramis appeared to be completely oblivious to his awkwardness.

"Lie on your front," he insisted and went over to his chest of drawers to fetch some oil. Athos suspected that this was his last chance to vanish and run away but there was something stopping him. Aramis could touch him and perhaps he needed a little touching once in a while. So he crawled onto the bed and made himself comfortable with a pillow underneath his head.

Aramis soon re-appeared and promptly straddled Athos' arse and sat himself down on it. Athos panicked. Whilst he wanted a little contact he hadn't quite realised the level he'd be receiving. He was quite certain that Aramis wouldn't straddle anyone's arse down at the spa. Regardless, Athos remained still as cold hands began rubbing oil into his shoulders. The fingers were skilled; they soothed over tight muscles and pressed hard in the right areas. Athos actually found himself relaxing and trusting Aramis completely. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the attention for just a moment.

Only the moment was only broken by Aramis speaking in a quiet voice.

"I was invited to join the squash club today by one of its members," the vampire informed him. Athos opened his eyes again to pay attention.

"That's good," he said, whilst not entirely being sure if it was or not.

"Yeah," Aramis agreed. "I'll ask one of the gym guys to give me a few lessons then I'll join. Hopefully I can find out something about those men your wife killed."

Athos paused for a few seconds before saying, "Thank you." Deep down he wished that Aramis wouldn't put himself in danger again and he knew that Porthos hated the fact that he was. Still, the vampire was stubborn and it could prove to be very helpful.

Aramis' hands went lower and he started rubbing hard at the bottom of Athos' back. It caused the ghost to grunt a little because it hurt but not in a completely unpleasant way.

"Your muscles are so stiff," Aramis mused. "I think I need to do this with you more often."

Athos rolled his eyes, wondering if Aramis was just coming up with more excuses to touch him although, in fairness, he hadn't attempted to seduce the ghost ever since he had grown closer to Porthos. His hands, however, we're going a little too low and when he felt Aramis tugging his jeans down he decided it was time to intervene.

"Aramis," he said sternly and Aramis stopped. His hands went back to stroking Athos' sides, rubbing oil over his muscles tenderly. He heard a sigh coming from behind him.

"Athos...something happened at work today and I can't really talk to Porthos about it because he'll just get grouchy...although I suspect you’re going to get grouchy as well…"

"Go on," Athos encouraged but then the vampire remained silent. Athos waited for a while but nothing more was said. Athos was starting to feel frustrated about not being able to face the vampire so he pushed up on his arms and rolled himself over. Aramis automatically lifted himself up so Athos could move. Once Athos was on his back he could immediately see the uncomfortable expression on the vampire's face.

"What is it?" Athos asked, trying to be caring. Aramis continued to look awkward.

"I don't want you to over-react about it. I like my job and I'm not going to leave it," Aramis said, trying to sound confident in his words but the chewing of his bottom lip gave away his uncertainly about his own statement. Then the vampire lowered himself down and sat on Athos' lap. Athos was too concerned about Aramis to be paying much attention to what the vampire's body was doing.

"What happened?" he asked.

Aramis appeared to think for a while then he smiled and shook his head. "Actually it doesn't matter."

Athos signed because of course it mattered. Whatever Aramis was going to tell him obviously did matter. But, before he could even attempt to encourage the ghost, Aramis wiggled on his lap.

"You're distracting me," Aramis informed him and grinned down at the ghost. Then Aramis' eyes appeared to study Athos' chest which made the ghost blush, just a little. Damn Aramis and his vampire hormones.

"Remove yourself," Athos insisted. The order made Aramis chuckle.

"Remove myself?" he questioned but he did so. Swinging his leg up he clambered off Athos' lap and knelt down on the bed beside him. "You're so sweet, Athos."

"And you're with a very jealous and possessive werewolf who, despite the fact he is also the nicest man I know, I do not want to get on the wrong side of," Athos informed him as he sat himself up. The statement seemed to make Aramis look sad.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" he asked.

"I'm not afraid of it," Athos admitted. "But you two are my friends."

The smile came back on the vampire's face at that statement.

"Yes we are," Aramis said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel awkward. Forgive me. I just like being around you. You're the only person in my life that I don't have to worry about hurting."

Athos looked at his face and knew that he would forgive him instantly, like they all did when it came to Aramis. And he understood a little of what Aramis was trying to say. He didn't have to ever worry about hurting Athos. Athos was starting to wonder if hurting people was something Aramis worried about a lot. However, it was what else was on the vampire's mind that Athos couldn't stop thinking about.

"What happened at the spa, Aramis?"

"Nothing," Aramis said with an eye roll like a perpetual teenager.

Athos sighed but accepted the fact he couldn't force it out of the vampire. "If you change your mind about telling me, I'll always listen."

The offer made Aramis smile once again right before he froze and his eyes went wide. Athos wondered what he had heard with his sensitive hearing. Aramis suddenly jumped up from the bed and grabbed Athos' jumper off the floor, throwing it the ghost quickly. Athos suddenly realised that Porthos must be home so he slid his jumper back on, despite the fact it felt a little yucky over his oiled back, just in time before the bedroom door swung open. The smile on the werewolf's face momentarily disappeared when he noticed Athos on the bed. But then he seemed to pause and brushed off his initial confusion.

"Hey guys, sorry I thought Aramis would be on his own."

"Eh we were just talking," Aramis said with a shrug and immediately went over to Porthos and wrapped his arms around the larger man's waist. Porthos cuddled Aramis back but he was looking over the vampire's shoulder at Athos. Athos was desperately trying not to look guilty even though he felt it, despite the fact he hadn't really done anything wrong. He quickly decided that leaving the room would be the best thing to do. He climbed off the bed and gave Porthos an awkward smile before hurrying out.

Porthos watched Athos scamper out of the room and chuckled. Porthos only played the possessive lover around Aramis because Aramis seemed to like it. Deep down Porthos felt no jealousy when it came to Athos at all. Which was strange, considering being possessive of a mate was perfectly natural for a werewolf. He gave Aramis a squeeze and kissed the side of his head.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked the vampire who seemed quite content in his arms and smelt of massage oil, which wasn't unusual given his new job.

"Mmm-hmm," Aramis mumbled against his chest. "Did you? You're back early."

"It wasn't very busy and I keep working over my hours so Treville sent me home. Were you traumatising Athos?"

Aramis smiled as he pulled away from the hug. "Always. I think he secretly likes it. I need to phone Constance."

Porthos raised his eyebrow as he watched Aramis go and fetch his phone. Wondering if the sudden change in subject was a diversion tactic. "Why?"

"Because she hasn't been here for a while and I'm worried about her. You know who might be back…and we don’t have any food in the house."

Porthos frowned. He did know who. “Yeah, probably is about time for his yearly visit.”

Aramis smiled at Porthos as he pressed the phone to his ear and waited for Constance to pick up. Porthos had a feeling that Aramis wasn’t telling him something and he wasn’t sure if it was to do with Athos or something else, but he sat on the bed and waited patiently.

“Constance…hi,” Aramis said to her answer-machine when she didn’t pick up. “…we haven’t seen you for a few days so I just wanted to check you were alright. Call me back when you get this.” Aramis looked worried as he lowered his phone.

“I’m off tomorrow,” Porthos said to try and cheer him up. “Once you finish at the spa we could go round and see if she’s home?”

Aramis nodded and then gasped as he suddenly came up with an idea. “And take d’Artagnan with us!”

Porthos chuckled and shook his head. “Right, because that’s going to work.”

“He could duel for her. It would be very romantic.”

Aramis came over to the bed and clambered onto Porthos’ lap. It made the werewolf smile as he wrapped his arms around Aramis’ waist. “Real life isn’t the same as those costume dramas you watch, love. D’Artagnan will probably just get thumped.”

“And Constance will run to his aid and tend to his wounds…” Aramis sighed wistfully which made Porthos laugh again.

“Look at you playing Cupid.”

“Well,” Aramis mused. “I can’t have everyone in this house fancying me. That would be exhausting.”

Porthos raised his eyebrow, wondering if that meant…

“Do you fancy Athos?” he asked, trying to sound relax about the whole thing. He just wanted to know the truth of the situation and then he could decide how he felt about it. Aramis didn’t flinch at the question but he did pause for a few seconds, rubbing his hand up and down the large muscles covering Porthos’ upper arm.

“Yeah, a little, but I fancy a lot of people. There’s only one person that I’m in love with and that person is sitting right in front of me.”

“Tom Hardy is sitting right here?” Porthos asked with a smile curling on his face.

“Yes, alright, I am in love with Tom Hardy but I was actually talking about….”

“Oh that blonde dragon lady from Game of Thrones?” Porthos teased.

Aramis laughed and shook his head. “Okay but she’s fictional and scary. So you don’t have to be jealous of her.”

Porthos leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on the vampire’s chin. “Maybe we need to do that list thing. Five people we’re allowed to sleep with if the opportunity ever came up. Although, knowing you, you’d hunt them down and make sure that the opportunity came up.”

“I’ll make a list but, for now, will you let me be romantic and sappy for a moment?”

Porthos laughed and decided to behave. “Yeah, alright, sorry.”

Aramis paused for a moment, looking at the arm he was still stroking slowly. “Oh screw it, you ruined the moment,” he muttered before pressing his lips against Porthos’ and pushing him back onto the bed for another kissing session.

\-----------------------------------------------

The amount of times Aramis and Porthos had been round to Constance’s house in the five years that they had all known each other they could count on the fingers of one hand. That was usually because Constance half lived at their house but, still, her recent disappearance was a worry for both of them, especially when they knew her circumstances at home.

When the door did swing open the person who was the cause of her difficult circumstances stood there with a frown.

“Yes?”

Unlike Porthos who hated Bonacieux with such a passion that he was unable to even be polite to the man, Aramis managed to muscle up a fake smile and nodded his greeting.

“Hello Monsieur Bonacieux. We’ve to come to see your sister.”

Constance’s brother, the one who constantly went away for work and then expected Constance to be there at his beck and call whenever he returned and not have a life of her own, looked the vampire and werewolf up and down.

“Oh, it’s you two. I almost forgot that you existed.”

“You seem to forget that a lot of things exist,” Aramis said with a pleasant smile that did nothing to mask the truth of his words.

Bonacieux looked terribly offended and huffed his disapproval. “She isn’t here,” he said and began to swing the door shut but Aramis jumped forward and stuck his foot in the way.

“I think she probably is,” Aramis said rather seriously. Porthos stepped forward to protect his boyfriend if need be. “I just want five minutes to ask her something.”

He was staring at Bonacieux and the man, who might have control over Constance with his emotional manipulation, had always been a little afraid of Aramis. He stared at the vampire for a moment and then opened the door and started yelling for his sister. There was soon the sound of foot-steps on the stairs and Constance appeared. She looked surprised at seeing them both and then glanced nervously at her brother.

Bonacieux just stood back and folded his arms to allow her to see them but clearly not by herself. She continued to watch him as she carefully stepped past and into the doorway. She managed to muster a little smile for them both.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Yes,” Aramis said with a genuine grin, very pleased to see her. “We were just worried about you because you hadn’t turned up for a few days.”

That was their story. Constance told her brother that she had a couple of cleaning jobs and he seemed happy that she was pulling her weight and earning her own money. None of them told him that the money she put into her account each month was actually a little bit of inheritance that she kept in a secret savings account after her favourite uncle passed away.

“I left you a note,” she said, sounding surprised that they hadn’t read it. “It was…oh...next to the washing-up rack on the sink. Which means you probably haven’t seen it.”

They all chuckled a little.

“Sorry,” she continued. “As you can see my brother has returned for a couple of weeks and requires my presence.” She rolled her eyes at them, hoping that he wouldn’t see it. “Can you cope for a few more days? I’ll come round and clean as soon as I can.”

Porthos stepped around Aramis for a moment to get a little closer. “Course we can. We just wanted to check that you were okay.”

He looked at her pointedly. She understood his meaning but smiled and nodded. “I am. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

That was obviously enough for her brother who grabbed her arm and tugged her back into the house.

“Now that’s sorted, gentlemen, you can go.”

Aramis and Porthos both gave him a ‘upset her and you die’ glare before leaving.

“Fucking prick,” Aramis muttered under his breath as they walked away and Porthos grunted his agreement.

“Should we tell the other two about him?”

“No, best not,” Aramis said, quite adamantly. “They might not understand why she’s loyal to him when he’s such an emotionally abusive wanker.”

“I’m not sure I understand it half the time,” Porthos admitted with a mumble.

Aramis nodded, he did agree but he still felt hesitant. “Let it come from her, not us. If she wants them to know then she can tell them. We’ll just say that she has a family matter which is keeping her away.”

Porthos moved closer and put his arm around Aramis. It was cold and he didn’t care who saw. Then he glanced up at the moon and sighed. “One more week,” he pointed out.

“Till Christmas?” Aramis asked with a grin which made Porthos chuckle and squeeze him around the shoulders tightly.

“No, you idiot, until I change again. Christmas isn’t too far away though.”

He kissed Aramis on the side of the head.

“Good because I like Christmas,” Aramis pointed out.

“As much as you like me?” Porthos asked teasingly.

“No, I like nothing as much as I like you.”

“You mean I come before junk food and Doctor Who?”

“Well…now you’re taking it too far.”

\-----------------------------------

The following Tuesday Porthos headed off to the woods to change into a wolf and Aramis headed off to the squash club. He had already been given a couple of lessons by one of the fitness instructors and, as it turned out, Aramis was quite a natural at the game. Although he was well aware that his vampire speed and reactions played a large part in that. In fact Aramis knew that he’d have to hold back a little otherwise the other players might get suspicious.

In the changing room Aramis waited somewhat nervously for the rest of the club to arrive.  As they turned up they all introduced themselves to Aramis and Aramis had to remember to call himself by the right name. So far they all seemed remarkably friendly. Posh, male and rich but friendly all the same. It wasn’t until Rochefort entered the changing room that the atmosphere changed. The laughing and joking between all of the men stopped the moment Rochefort arrived and everyone watched him as he immediately spotted Aramis and went over.

“Ah, Rene, how good to see you. I wasn’t expecting you to join us so soon.”

Aramis, attempting not to let himself be intimidated gave a little shrug as he stood there in his grey shorts and black T-shirt. Aramis didn’t do white; he never did white.

“I wanted to challenge myself.”

Rochefort stood in front of him and stared at him for a while but then smiled a little and nodded. “Then why don’t you play me tonight?”

“I..errr…” Aramis found himself stumbling over his words. He hadn’t expected to be up against Rochefort so soon but he had a feeling that no-one refused the man’s offer. So he decided to man-up…vampire-up and accept. “Sounds like fun.”

Sounds like fucking torture, he thought inside his head but picked up his borrowed racket anyway and headed out into one of the courts once Rochefort had put on his white T-shirt and shorts.

Inside the court Aramis felt nervous. He also noticed that they were being watched by a couple of other club members up on the balcony. Suddenly the rules and everything he had been taught went out of his head and the first couple of serves went dreadfully. In fact he could almost feel the disdain and disappointment coming from Rochefort. But then something eventually clicked again and he began to find his stride. Rochefort wasn’t anywhere near as kind as the fitness instructor had been and the pace quickly became very relentless. Aramis found himself racing all over the court but somehow managed to keep up, only finding himself sprawled on the floor on a couple of occasions.

Rochefort was beating him but it wasn’t a thrashing. In fact Rochefort was panting quite heavily when they paused to take a drink of water.

“Are you sure you’re new to this?” he asked, almost sounding amused. Aramis suddenly worried that he had been too good and perhaps needed to tone down his vampire ability a little.

“New to squash but I do play tennis,” he lied, although not entirely. He had played tennis in the past, it was just a long time ago.

“Ah,” Rochefort said and that admission obviously satisfied some of his curiosity because he nodded and questioned it no further.

When they got back to the game Rochefort even seemed to be enjoying himself and gave Aramis a couple of tips about his foot-work. He even came over at one point and pressed himself up against Aramis’ back, running his long fingers over the vampire’s arm before gripping his hands over the racket he gave the vampire advice on his stance. Having Rochefort pressing up against him made Aramis feel queasy but he tried to show gratitude. If he got into Rochefort’s good books he’d be-able to help Athos and d’Artagnan out.

Once their game was over, and Rochefort had won, the blond man came over to shake his hand which Aramis took. He was obviously impressing the bastard which could only be a good thing.

“Let’s go to the showers,” Rochefort said when he took a little longer than necessary to let go of Aramis’ hand. Aramis suddenly panicked. He didn’t want to get into the showers with Rochefort. He only hoped that some of the other squash players would be there as well.

When they both reached the locker room Aramis felt relieved that some of the other squash players were scattered around, chatting and having friendly conversations with each other. Aramis looked at them as he grabbed his towel walked through the room, following Rochefort towards the showers. He noticed one of them passing an envelope to another and wondered what was going on. They all looked like they were having mini-business meetings in their squash shorts.

There were four single shower cubicles for those who were shy and one large one which could fit a few men. Aramis wasn’t surprised to see Rochefort head for the communal shower. Aramis however, remembering what had happened with Rochefort back in the massage room, walked straight into a cubicle and locked the door before Rochefort had a chance to say anything. There he undressed and had the quickest shower possible.

Once he was clean and had wrapped his towel around his waist he picked up his clothes and opened the door again. He jumped when he found Rochefort waiting outside leaning with one hand up the next cubicle to block Aramis’ path. Thankfully the human at least had a blue towel around his waist. He was staring at Aramis with his one good eye.

“I know what you are,” he said almost gently although the words send a shiver down Aramis’ spine. Aramis stood there, holding onto his clothes, water droplets running down his bare skin.

“What?” he asked, trying to sound confused even though he wanted to push Rochefort aside and run away.

“Which coven do you belong to?” Rochefort asked, looking Aramis up and down. “I don’t recognise you.”

Coven? Fuck! How did he know? Aramis debated denying it for longer but what was the point? Rochefort obviously knew he was a vampire, he had figured it out somehow. How did Rochefort even know about vampires? Aramis paused for a moment, deciding in his head what he wanted to say first before he spoke out loud.

“I’m not. I don’t like politics. I’m more of a freelancer.”

The comment made Rochefort snort and smirk. “Freelance vampires tend to be quite useful.”

Aramis tried to look over Rochefort’s shoulder to see if anyone else was in the showers with them. How could Rochefort just say the V word so casually, like he didn’t care who over-heard them? He realised that the human was waiting for him to respond.

“I can’t be brought,” Aramis said, feeling quite determined not to let Rochefort intimidate him this time. He would get a new job damnit, he wasn’t going to let himself be bullied. He was Aramis, the notorious vampire.

“Everyone can be brought, Rene,” Rochefort said with a smirk but dropped his arm and stood up straight, allowing the vampire to pass if he wanted to. “We all have a price.”

“I don’t,” Aramis said and then shuffled around Rochefort, gripping onto his clothes even harder and holding them against his chest. He eyed Rochefort up nervously but the man seemed to be making no effort to move, he just openly ran his gaze over Aramis’ body. So Aramis hurried back into the changing-room and was relieved to discover that a couple of other men were still milling around.

Aramis quickly changed back into his clothes without looking at them. Once he had dressed he did turn around to discover that Rochefort was now talking to the men and they all occasionally looked over at him and nodded. Suddenly the squash club seemed a little less friendly.

It was when Aramis was putting on his shoes that he noticed something on a plaque on the wall. It was names of the squash champions over the past ten years. He saw Rochefort’s name appear three times but the year he didn’t win…Aramis immediately recongised the person.

“Who is Eric Lloris?” Aramis asked over his shoulder. The men behind him stopped talking. Aramis knew who Eric was, he was one of the murdered men, but he wanted to see how they’d react.

“Someone who used to be in the club,” one of the other players said to him. “He isn’t anymore.”

“Oh,” Aramis hoped that he sounded innocent enough as he tugged the zip of his sports bag up and swung it over his shoulder, turning to face them again. “That’s a shame. He must have been good to have won the tournament.”

Rochefort appeared to be frowning at him and Aramis wondered if he had blown it. Rochefort then turned and said something to the two men who both got up and left the room. Aramis’ grip on his bag tightened as he found himself alone with the bastard.

Rochefort slowly walked over and Aramis found his legs automatically making him back up. He knew full well that he could fight Rochefort off if he wanted but he was trying not to upset the man, only it was difficult with the way Rochefort acted. Rochefort stopped right in front of him and slowly lifted his hand. He gently tucked some of Aramis’ wet curls back over his ear. Aramis was just opening his mouth to ask him what he was doing when Rochefort’s fingers gripped onto his hair and he tugged Aramis’ head forward a little. Then Rochefort pressed his nose into his hair and inhaled.

“What are you doing?” Aramis finally managed to say and pushed at Rochefort’s chest with his free hand. The man was really freaking him out now, enough was enough. Rochefort stepped back, let go of Aramis’ hair and continued to look at him.

“I do hope you aren’t intending to try and feed on any of my friends without my permission?”

“I…” Aramis was surprised by the statement but then realised that he probably shouldn’t be. Most vampires befriended humans for that purpose alone. “…I wasn’t going to. I just want to play squash.”

God that sounds pathetic, Aramis realised, but it seemed to make Rochefort smile.

“Good boy,” the man said. “I’ll see you on Thursday then.” And, with that, Rochefort turned around and left.


	24. He sniffed my hair

How the fuck do I get myself into these messes? Aramis mused as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Oh well, Porthos would be there with his big, strong arms which would make him feel safe and everything would be alright again. Only the living-room was dark and the kitchen was dark and Aramis suddenly remembered that it was full-moon so Porthos wasn’t there at all. He sighed. Amusing himself with a grumpy ghost would have to be a distraction enough then.

He dropped his sports bag in the middle of the hallway before dashing up the stairs two at a time. As he got closer to Athos’ room he heard shooting which meant that Athos was playing some computer game but at least he was in. He knocked then, without waiting for a response, opened the door.

Athos was indeed sitting on his bed with his eyes on the TV screen. Aramis was secretly pleased that someone was making good use of the games console. The ghost did look up when Aramis strolled in.

“Hello,” Athos said. Aramis smiled and went over to sit down on the bed next to the ghost. The ghost eyed him up for a moment but then turned his attention back to the screen.

“You’re back late,” Athos muttered.

“Yeah, I was at the squash club.”

“Oh,” Athos paused his game and put the controller down onto the bed. “How did it go?”

“It’s hard. I don’t know how to get the information out of them. I did mention one of those men’s names today and just got told that he left the club.” Aramis looked at Athos a little apologetically. “I think it’s going to be take me time to find out anything for you because I don’t even know how to do.”

Athos nodded furiously. “Of course. I’m not…I mean whatever you find out I will be grateful and if you cannot find out anything at all, I still appreciate you trying.”

Athos’ words made the vampire smile a little. Oh and there’s also this bastard called Rochefort who sniffs my hair and knows I’m a vampire and….Aramis was cut away from his thoughts by his phone buzzing. He pulled it out of his pocket and had a look.

“It’s Constance,” he explained to Athos. “She said that she might be-able to come round tomorrow. Will you be home?”

Athos offered a little shrug, “I have no-where else to go.”

Aramis looked at him sympathetically before texting Constance back and saying that they’d all love to see her. Then he put his phone away again and turned to observe the TV screen which was perched on a desk chair.

“Can I play the game with you?”

“You’re awful at all,” Athos pointed out bluntly.

Aramis couldn’t quite decide if he should be offended. “Yeah, well, I can’t be amazing at everything. Let’s go and watch more Downton Abbey then.”

\------------------------------------

When Porthos returned the following morning he found Athos and Aramis on the sofa together. Aramis was curled up asleep against the ghost with his head resting on Athos’ chest and his arm wrapped around the dead man’s waist. When Athos saw Porthos he immediately stiffened and tried to get up. Porthos chuckled and raised his hand to stop him.

“Don’t, it’s okay,” he reassured the dead man. “Don’t wake him up.”

Athos seemed to relax and sink back down into the chair again. Porthos disappeared into the kitchen and made himself some breakfast but his mind was on something else. He had a hazy memory of smelling then seeing another werewolf just as he was starting to change. She had sensibly run off to get away from his territory but there was something about the fear in her eyes which he couldn’t shake. Only, once he was back to normal, he couldn’t find her anywhere and her scent trailed off in the middle of the woods. He wondered if she knew any other werewolves. It was a scary world to be in if you were alone.

He sighed as he covered some hot toasted bagels with soft cheese. Perhaps he would bump into her again at the next full-moon. He carried his breakfast into the living-room and sunk down on what was usually Athos’ chair, vacant as a result of the ghost still being stuck underneath the snoozing vampire. Porthos smiled over at him, pondering about how cute they looked together and then wondering why he would think that. Only he was brought out of his thoughts by a snort and a mumble of ‘he sniffed my hair’ coming from the sleeping vampire. They both stared at Aramis.

“What?” Porthos asked with a chuckle, even though the vampire wouldn’t hear. Only his voice seemed to wake Aramis from his dreams and he slowly lifted his head and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. He turned around with one eye open and looked over at Porthos.

“Hey,” he said groggily.

“Hey,” Porthos said back warmly with a smile.

Aramis was just lowering his head back against Athos’ chest on the wet patch where his drool had pooled on Athos’ jumper, when the realisation about the fact Pothos was home sunk in. He gasped and suddenly sat bolt upright.

“You’re back!” he cried with happiness and scrambled away from Athos and off the couch.

Porthos smiled and moved his plate out of the way just as the vampire straddled his lap and sat down.

“Watch my bagels,” Porthos warned which made Aramis grin.

“Sorry, I will. I happen to like your bagels.”

Porthos laughed as the sleepy vampire leaned forward and seemed to collapse against his chest. Porthos wasn’t sure what to do with his breakfast now that it was hanging in mid-air.

“Hey, I’m hungry,” he said, using his free-hand to stroke the back of Aramis’ neck. “I need to eat something quick.” He kissed the side of Aramis’ head and was grateful when the vampire sat back up again, having a bit of a stretch with his arms and giving Porthos enough space to bring the plate of bagels back. Of course Aramis grabbed one and started munching happily.

“Oy!” Porthos growled. “You can go back to Athos if you’re going to steal my breakfast.”

Aramis smiled innocently, mouth covered with soft cheese which he licked away suggestively. Porthos chuckled and his heart swelled.  Yes Aramis could be annoying, frustrating and incredibly manipulative but he loved him, Porthos realised in that moment. He was about to tell the vampire as much when a voice from the other side of the room spoke up.

“Who sniffed your hair?”

Aramis suddenly stiffened at the question. He shoved more bagel into his mouth and chewed as he turned to glance over his shoulder at the ghost and mumbled something along the lines of, “I dunno ot ou’re ‘alkng bout.”

“You said that whilst you were dreaming,” Athos explained as he sat there, not having moved from his position on the sofa.

Aramis looked back at Porthos and shrugged before swallowing down his mouthful. “Well it was just a dream. It was probably d’Artagnan. He keeps doing weird things to me in my dreams.”

The vampire laughed as the werewolf rolled his eyes. Now d’Artagnan, he _did_ get jealous about that. Pesky humans and their silly little crushes.

A knock on the front door suddenly got the attention of all of them. However, they all just sat there and no-one made any attempt to move.

“Someone is at the door,” Athos eventually pointed out.

“I know,” Aramis noted. “No-one ever knocks on our door.”

They all sat there for a little longer until there was another knock, which made them all jump.

“What do we do?” Aramis asked.

“Open it?” Athos suggested, sounding impassive about the whole thing.

“I’ll go,” Porthos offered but he was stuck under the vampire and the vampire didn’t seem keen to move.

“No, let Athos go,” Aramis suggested. “It’ll be funny.”

Athos, with a roll of his eyes, got up and went out into the hallway. Despite the fact the person on the other side of the door was never going to see him, he opened it anyway. Only the person could see him and the person was smiling.

“Athos!” Constance beamed. She was looking her usual elegant self in a blue knitted dress with long boots. “You look lovely.”

Athos stared down at himself. He was wearing the same outfit he always wore and he had been squashed underneath a vampire for the last few hours so probably didn’t look his best. He didn’t understand what she meant.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

Athos immediately shuffled aside, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed because he had been warned that she was visiting but had completely forgotten. “Yes, sorry. Don’t you usually have a key?”

Constance nodded. “Yes, but I was so happy to get out of the house that I forgot to bring it with me.”

“Ah, Aramis said that some relatives have been keeping you busy?”

Constance paused for a moment and turned back to Athos. She suddenly looked embarrassed and brushed some of her hair back behind her ear as she blushed. “Umm yes. Relatives, that’s right. Where are the rest of the boys?”

“In here!” she heard a vampire yelling so smiled again at Athos before hurrying off into the living-room before the ghost had the chance to ask further questions.

“Hi boys,” she said with a smile when she saw the other two. “I kept on having nightmares of you all starving to death and dying under mounds of rubbish.” She took a moment to look around the living-room. “But, actually, you seem to have been coping okay.”

“Yeah, d’Artagnan went food shopping and even did the hovering,” Porthos explained.

Constance, who probably should have been jealous that someone was taking her place, actually began to smile. She should have known that she could rely on sweet d’Artagnan.

When d’Artagnan emerged from his bedroom and came down for breakfast, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big wet kiss on the cheek. “You’re wonderful. I have trained you well, my young padawan,” she said, before letting go and continuing her mission to organise the kitchen cupboards.

\---------------------------------------------------

“You have to be horrible to her.”

“What?” Athos asked the human who was pacing up and down in front of him as the ghost sat on his favourite chair in the living-room. Constance had just left after sorting out the kitchen, dusting the living-room, cleaning the bathroom and talking a lot.

“It’s the only way to stop her from liking you and starting to like me,” the human insisted.

“I don’t have to be horrible to her for that, d’Artagnan,” Athos pointed out. “Constance will grow to like you. You just have to give it time. Let her get to know you. In fact I think she already likes you a little.”

“Does she?” d’Artagnan asked, his eyes looking at Athos with great hope.

“Yes,” Athos said. He really had no-idea, he was just trying to be helpful.

“Oh that’s good,” he said with a smile. “I was thinking about asking her out, you know, on a date.”

“That would be a good place to start,” Athos said and then lifted up his book to continue reading. Unfortunately the human wasn’t quite as done with the conversation.

“But if you could be horrible to her for a while, that would be great.”

Athos frowned but didn’t take his eyes away from the book.

“Should I take her…bowling or something?”

With a loud sigh Athos lowered his book and looked back at the human. “What you will do is buy her flowers. White and red roses and say that you picked those colours because they match the white dress with the red flowers that she wears and looks particularly beautiful in. Then you will ask her if she will wear something nice and be ready for 5’o’clock.

When you turn up in a taxi you will compliment her on what she is wearing, saying that she looks absolutely radiant. You will open the door of the taxi for her and take her out for an early meal, perhaps an Italian restaurant because I know you don’t have much money. You will pull her chair back and ask for a bottle of Pinot Grigio if she orders pasta or dry rosé if she orders pizza. You will only drink one glass because I know your tolerance for alcohol. You will ask her lots of questions and listen intently. You will only speak about yourself if she asks you a question directly. She will hesitate about having a dessert so you will suggest that you share one, a sundae with two spoons if that is an option. Then you will pay for the meal.

After eating you will take her to the theatre to see something light-hearted and fun. Perhaps a musical or a comedy. Once it has finished you will hail down another taxi, once again opening the door for her and take her home. You will walk her to the door, kiss her on the cheek and bid her a goodnight.”

Athos lifted his book up again and continued reading.

“Athos, you’re the best!” d’Artagnan said before running off to find a notepad to write it all down.

Upstairs Aramis had phoned in sick because he wanted to look after Porthos. Thankfully the spa manager still had such a crush on him that she ‘awwed’ a lot and then offered to come round with soup and a hot water bottle. Aramis had to insist that she not come near, just in case she caught it.

After putting the phone down, Aramis watched as Porthos continued to sleep, catching up on the lack of which he had during the night. Aramis thought about what Porthos had to go through every single full-moon and yet the man never grumbled and never complained. He just got on with it and continued to be nicer than most humans Aramis knew.

Aramis walked closer to Porthos’ bed and sat down, listening to the snoring. Then Aramis got undressed down to his underwear and crawled beneath the duvet beside Porthos. Aramis himself preferred to sleep during the day but he had gotten used to sleeping at night in recent years to fit in with his new lifestyle. Still, it was good to treat himself to a day sleep once in a while. A couple of hours later, when it was past lunch-time, they both slowly woke up. Aramis lifted his dozy head and smiled at Porthos, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips tenderly.

“Afternoon, handsome.”

Porthos smiled up at him. “Afternoon. I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“Phoned in sick,” Aramis explained with made Porthos roll his eyes.

“Aramis, you need to stop pretend that you’re….”

In order to end the lecture before it ever really began, Aramis lowered his head again and kissed Porthos again. This time he did it slower, lazily rubbing his lips against the werewolf’s and pushing his mouth open. Then he slipped his tongue inside and groaned when he found a warm one waiting for him. It did indeed shut Porthos up. In fact soon big, strong hands were grabbing at the vampire and tugging Aramis on top of him. Aramis happily complied and clambered onto Porthos.

And they kissed. They kissed until their lips felt sore and they were both panting. Aramis pulled away first and smiled. He pushed himself down Porthos’ warm body a little and started nibbling along the werewolf’s jaw. He was feeling brave, he wanted to take some risks. Push things a little further and see what would happen. Porthos had been so patient but it was Aramis who was starting to lose his self-resolve despite his fears.

Porthos moaned with delight as Aramis then licked his neck but didn’t linger there for long. Necks were never a good idea. Raking his fingers through the hairs on Porthos’ chest, Aramis wiggled down the bed even further. Porthos wasn’t complaining although he was starting to wonder what Aramis was up to. As Aramis disappeared underneath the duvet, he felt slim fingers sliding into his boxers and tugging them down.

“Aramis, what are you doing?” Porthos whispered but he didn’t get a response. And Porthos didn’t mind, dear god he didn’t mind, if Aramis wanted to go down there. Porthos was just concerned about Aramis controlling himself. But he was distracted from his worries by his underwear being tugged right down and cold lips kissing down his hip.

Porthos smiled and sighed with delight. He pushed one of his arms underneath the duvet and found the familiar dark curls which he adored so much. He stroked Aramis’ hair as the vampire teased him by kissing and nibbling around his now twitching cock.

“You know,” Porthos said, still not able to completely shake away his concern. “If there’s a chance your teeth are gonna appear, I’d rather they didn’t whilst you were down there.”

He heard the vampire chuckling from beneath the duvet and then the vampire finally spoke. “They won’t. I’m going to concentrate on your pleasure and not mine. I think it’ll work.”

The comment made Porthos frown. What was going to be the fun of it if Aramis wasn’t going to get any pleasure from it? He was about to protest when soft, cold lips suddenly wrapped around his growing erection which made him gasp loudly. His fingers tightened in Aramis’ hair as Aramis lowered his mouth. There was no-way he could fit all of Porthos in but he was determined to give it a try.

Porthos groaned and saw stars as he could hear the blood pumping furiously around his body and his heart-beat increased. He arched his back a little and pushed into the chilly mouth. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant at all, it was intoxicating. When Aramis pulled his mouth back he used his tongue to rub up the underside, then he lowered his mouth again with a groan, sucking in his cheeks hard. Porthos felt himself shaking, his legs quivering. He wasn’t going to last long at all because he had waited too long for this. He smiled to himself as he heard Aramis moan from underneath the duvet, perhaps not doing a wonderful job of not enjoying himself but Porthos was too lost in the moment to worry.

“So good,” he encouraged with a sigh and groaned again as Aramis began to bob his head up and down. Porthos growled, thrusting his hips up a little at the same time until they both discovered a steady rhythm. “Aramis…” No, he wasn’t going to last long at all. His fingers automatically gripped a little tighter in the curls and his groans increased in pace and volume. He listened to the sucking and slurping noises going on inside the duvet and suddenly wished that he could watch. Only it was too late to even do anything about it, because Porthos’ balls suddenly felt tight and his groin felt hot and he was about to…

“Aramis,” he gasped, trying to give a warning but his body reacted before he really had a chance. He thrust deep into Aramis’ mouth and then came with a cry. The vampire didn’t attempt to pull away, he just stayed with his mouth wrapped around Porthos as Porthos exploded.

When it was over Porthos’ body relaxed and he sunk back into the bed with a contented sigh and a smile on his face. So, Aramis could do it after all. He could control himself. Porthos suddenly wanted to touch him and hold him and tell him how wonderful he was. He pushed the duvet back a little to find him. Aramis soon emerged, his hair even messier than usual and a satisfied smile on his face.

“I love you. You’re so amazing,” Porthos purred and wrapped his strong arm around Aramis, tugging the vampire down onto his sedated body. There they held each other for a while, Porthos not willing to let go. But Porthos was also wanted to make Aramis happy and, after a couple of minutes in silence, he used his spare hand to push between their bodies and slipped inside the vampire’s underwear. Aramis made a slight whine of protest but then stopped when Porthos’ hand found his cock and fingers wrapped around it.

Aramis lowered his head down onto Porthos’ shoulders and groaned. Everything in his head was telling him to stop what was happening but his body had different ideas. He lifted his hips up as he grew hard and Porthos’ skilled fingers stroked him lazily at first but then a little faster.

“Porthos,” Aramis whimpered. “Oh fuck, Porthos.”

Aramis’ fingers gripped onto Porthos’ arms and he started to kiss and bite at the shoulder as he became more aroused. Soon the slapping noise of Porthos’ pumping hand filled the room as did the whines and whimpers of the vampire. Aramis had to bite down to a little onto Porthos’ skin to stop himself from being too noisy. He felt dizzy and alive and he could smell Porthos; the musk, the sweat, the blood. Oh the blood. The rich, thick, pumping blood rushing right underneath his mouth. Blackness started to seep into his eyes and teeth pushed through his gums. His senses were suddenly heightened and if he just bit down a little harder…no! Aramis gasped and pushed at Porthos to get away. Porthos let go as the vampire suddenly panicked and scrambled off him.

“Aramis?” Porthos pushed himself up onto his elbows and watched as the vampire sat down at the other end of the bed, his back to him. “Aramis?” Porthos moved, pulled up his underwear and slowly crawled over to the vampire. He reached out to touch Aramis’ shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Aramis suddenly screamed which made Porthos jump and promptly remove his hand. They both sat in silence for a moment until Porthos couldn’t keep quiet any longer. His chest heaved and his heart ached.

“It’s okay,” he whispered calmly. “It’s okay, love.”

Aramis suddenly threw his head into his hands and mumbled into them, “No it’s not.”

“Hey, can I touch you?”

Aramis’ shoulders seemed to relax and his posture softened. “Just give me a minute,” he said into his hands and Porthos did so but he also decided to continue speaking, wanting to reassure the vampire that this hadn’t changed anything.

“That was our first time at trying something…more. You did really well. Trust me, you did _really_ well. We’ll keep taking things slow.”

Aramis turned a little to look over his shoulder at Porthos. His eyes were still black which only made Porthos want to cuddle him even more.

“What if I bite you?” Aramis whispered, the fear and worry about doing so evident in the way he spoke.

“Then you’ll get a very bad stomach ache,” Porthos told him, with a bit of a smile. Then he held his arms out. “Oh, love, can I hold you? Please?”

Aramis nodded but made no attempt to move. He lowered his head and closed his eyes. He was obviously trying to calm himself down. When he finally opened eyes half a minute later they were back to normal, although filled with tears. Aramis then launched himself at Porthos who caught him and held him tightly.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he whispered into Aramis’ ear and decided there and then that he was never going to let go. Well until dinner-time anyway.

\--------------------------------

Aramis hesitated about going to the squash club on the Thursday but he managed to build up his nerve through-out the day and lingered around after work to join in. This time Rochefort seemed to pay him a little less attention in the changing-room and another member of the club Pierre, a man in his early-40s who swaggered around like he believed that he was bachelor of the year, asked Aramis for a game. Aramis was secretly relieved and found himself having a great time because, despite the fact Pierre had an ego the size of the Eiffel Tower, he was also incredibly nice.

Aramis still purposely lost but the Pierre had been encouraging and friendly through-out the entire match. He even put his arm around Aramis once the game was over and told Aramis all about a bad date he had recently been on which had Aramis laughing as they walked back to the changing-rooms.

“So, Rochefort is…interesting,” Aramis said as they walked down the hallway, once the story of the bad date had run its course. He wanted to learn how the others really felt about him. The comment made Pierre laugh.

“Yes, interesting is one word for him. No-one likes him but he’s useful.”

Useful, Aramis thought, was an interesting choice of words. Useful with what? Surely it wasn’t so difficult to run a squash club? Pierre, perhaps sensing his confusing, pulled his arm away and smiled at Aramis.

“Keep playing your cards right and you’ll find out. In fact Rochefort seems to like you, so you definitely will,” he said with a knowing wink.

Aramis watched Pierre disappearing into the changing-rooms and, not for the first time, started to wonder exactly what the squash club was all about and what on earth Pierre was talking about. There was obviously more to the club than just playing squash.

He sighed as he pushed the door open himself and went inside. Rochefort wasn’t back from his game yet so Aramis had a quick shower and was almost dressed by the time Rochefort appeared, laughing at the man he had probably just beaten. He saw Rochefort slap the man on the arse as the guy headed off towards the showers and Aramis realised that it wasn’t just him then; Rochefort was a pervert to all of them.

Rochefort noticed Aramis watching and smiled over at him. Aramis quickly looked away and hurried about packing up his bag. His gaze once again fell on the plaque. How on earth was he going to find out about the dead men?

“Rene,” he heard his name and spun around to discover Rochefort standing right in front of him, adjusting his eye-patch. “What are you doing the Saturday before Christmas?”

Aramis had no-idea. He didn’t think that he had any plans but he also wasn’t sure why Rochefort was asking. “Umm not sure, why?” he said, deciding that sounded non-committal.

“Once a month I host a social, a party. If you would like to come then I can give you a formal invitation?”

A party? Well that didn’t sound so bad. It wasn’t like Rochefort was asking him out on a date.

“Yeah, alright,” Aramis said with a bit of a shrug. Rochefort smirked, nodded and then actually left Aramis alone.


	25. Entertainment will be provided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Made by Isalen
> 
> [I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! Although I'm writing this story because I love writing this story, it's a very long story and having people leave kudos and comments really helps me stay excited about the whole thing.]

Aramis stroked the smooth card of the party invitation as it sat on his bedside table. There was something in his gut telling him that it was a bad idea to go but he wondered if spending time with the squash players socially was the way to find out what was really going on within the club. He sighed then looked up distracted by the conversation which was going on outside in the hallway.

“One should never wear jeans on a first date,” Athos seemed to be insisting.

“ _One_ ain’t gonna turn up in a bloody suit, is he? The kid hasn’t even got a suit,” Porthos responded.

Aramis smiled at the discussion then decided to try and help; he was the fashion expert after all. He opened his bedroom door to discover poor d’Artagnan standing there in nothing but a pair of jeans and a brown belt. When the lad spotted Aramis he gave the vampire pleading ‘help me’ eyes.

“Fine, but he could at least wear a shirt and tie,” the ghost was suggesting.

“But this is Constance. She sees him all the time in his scruffy clothes.”

“Yes,” the ghost was looking at Porthos as he spoke, completely ignoring the subject of their argument. “But this is a date. A gentleman must always make an effort.”

Aramis waved d’Artagnan over and the human ducked underneath Porthos’ arm to escape from the in-depth conversation about his date outfit. Aramis grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him inside his bedroom.

“Those jeans are fine, they look nice with the belt,” Aramis promised. “You can borrow one of my shirts.”

The vampire went over to his wardrobe and shuffled through his clothes. Half of his wardrobe was black but there were a few coloured items dotted around. He decided that blue would suit d’Artagnan so pulled out an ironed royal blue shirt and passed it over to the young man. The human slipped it on and Aramis stepped in front of him, doing up the buttons. Aramis decided not to do up the top two buttons because he wanted to leave enough chest exposed to make Constance happy. The thought of them both dating did funny, happy things to Aramis’ stomach.

Aramis tucked the shirt into d’Artagnan’s jeans loosely before looking at d’Artagnan with a smile. That was when he realised d’Artagnan was staring at him funny. A tongue soon appeared which licked across the human’s dry lips. Then d’Artagnan took a tentative step forward.

“Stop,” Aramis warned but his words were ignored. D’Artagnan tilted his head a little to the side and pushed his mouth forward, aiming for Aramis’ lips. Aramis laughed and immediately tilted backwards and out of the way. He also reached out to tap d’Artagnan on the nose.

“Behave. You’re about to go on a date with Constance!”

D’Artagnan’s eyes suddenly went wide and he looked shocked at his own behaviour. “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I just did that. Urgh, I thought it had warn off.”

“It’s alright,” Aramis said good-naturedly. The school-boy crush d’Artagnan still seemed to have on him was his own doing after all. The young man had saved his life, Aramis could cope with a bit of unwanted desire aimed in his direction once in a while. Actually Aramis secretly rather enjoyed it. D’Artagnan shook his head as if attempting to pull his distracted mind back on track.

“Constance told me to call her once I got there and wait in the taxi. Is that normal?” the human asked. The question made Aramis frown for a moment, a little confused until he remembered about Constance’s brother. Of course, she had probably made up some story about where she was going, her brother would never let her go on a date.

“Yes. She probably just doesn’t want her family asking her a million questions about the handsome young man turning up at the doorstep.”

The answer made d’Artagnan smile with relief and he turned to inspect himself in Aramis’ full-length mirror, which d’Artangan always thought was a bit of an odd thing for a vampire to have in his bedroom but he had never questioned it. Immediately the human reached up and tried to do something with his scruffy hair. Aramis sighed, the lad did need a hair-cut.

“Let me,” Aramis insisted and went to fetch his comb and hair-spray. The other two were still in the hallway debating first date etiquette as Aramis fixed d’Artagnan’s hair and made him look very handsome indeed.

Ten minutes later the three of them waved d’Artagnan off from the doorway like proud parents. Once d’Artagnan had disappeared in the taxi, Porthos turned to Aramis.

“When does your work Christmas party, start?” he asked. Aramis glanced down at his watch.

“Not until seven. I have a couple of hours.”

“Well then, knowing how long you take to get ready, you’d better start,” Porthos teased and kissed the side of Aramis’ head.

Aramis hated lying to Porthos. God he hated lying to him. But if Porthos knew the truth he would have insisted that he join Aramis at the party and turning up with Porthos would just upset Rochefort and upsetting Rochefort would mean that Aramis would never find out anything about Milady. So Aramis had made up a story about it being a work party and no partners were allowed and Porthos seemed to accept it because Porthos was trusting and wonderful.

Aramis did indeed take a couple of hours to get ready and tried on at least ten outfits as he was nervous. He eventually decided to just keep it simple. So he put on black jeans, black shoes, a white shirt and a black tie, then rolled up his sleeves. He grabbed his leather jacket on his way out and smiled at the other two before leaving.

Once Aramis had gone Porthos distracted himself by eating a microwave meal and the ghost watched him eat with envy.

“Is it wrong that it sort of feels like our children have gone out for the evening and we can finally enjoy a bit of peace and quiet?” Porthos asked with a chuckle.

Athos nodded. “No, I agree with that statement. As much as I care for them both.”

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something? I think Aramis has one of the latest Marvel films in his bedroom.”

Athos nodded. He didn’t really mind what they did. But then neither of them seemed to move. Athos looked back over at Porthos.

“Well…” the werewolf said, waving his fork around. “…it’ll take me a whole minute to go up the stairs, it’ll take you two seconds.”

Athos rolled his eyes but vanished anyway and reappeared in the messy bedroom that belonged to the vampire. He suddenly realised that he should have asked Porthos where it was. He looked amongst the hair products and around the piles of clothes which had obviously been thrown around the room in a disorganised haze.

Then he spotted a DVD on the bedside table underneath something white. He picked up the white card and then grabbed the DVD with his other hand.

He was about to put the card back when a quick glance at it caused him to realise that it was a party invitation. He wondered if the vampire would need it to get into his work party so had a quick read of the fancy silver writing. At the top it clearly said ‘Squash Club’s Christmas party’ and there were a couple of odd comments on it which confused Athos. ‘No guests unless pre-approved’ was a strange one and 'entertainment will be provided, rules must be followed’. What sort of party was this? Athos turned the card over and, scribbled on the back in pen, it read ‘See you there xx’.

Athos sighed. Oh Aramis, he thought, what have you got yourself into? He had clearly not gone to a work Christmas party. Athos found the address on the card before tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he held onto the DVD as he walked back down the stairs to find Porthos. When he went into the living-room he racked his brain for a quick excuse.

“You know, I’m afraid I might just leave you to it. I have a headache.”

Porthos looked up at him confused. “You’re dead, Athos.”

Athos nodded. Yes he was a ghost. Why did he think that the headache excuse would work?

“I know,” Athos said, because he did. “I get headaches sometimes. I don’t understand it either. But I may go and lie-down for a little while.”

Porthos nodded. The fact was he didn’t know enough about ghosts to argue. “Want me to check on you in a bit?”

“No, thank you. I will be fine. Enjoy the movie.” Athos attempted to smile at Porthos as he passed him the DVD before heading upstairs. Once he was in his room and had shut the door, he immediately closed his eyes and transported himself onto the street outside the house.

\-----------------------

It was a dull, dark winter’s night and Aramis almost missed the turning for the house. It was set back from the road and the gates were hidden by giant conifer trees, but he could hear the music even from the end of the drive and the black iron gates automatically opened as he drove his motorbike closer. He briefly glanced around in his helmet, wondering who had opened the gates but only saw a security camera blinking a red light at him. He slowly rode his bike up the crunchy pebbled path to discover that he was far from the first. In fact the large drive-way in front of the house was already full of expensive looking cars.

Aramis parked his bike close to the corner of the building and pulled his helmet off. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his curls back to life. Then, still sitting on his bike, he looked up at the house. It was three stories high if you included the windows in the attic. Brown bricks, a grey tiled roof and large glass bay windows. Aramis guessed that he could probably count at least twenty different windows just from the front. It was a large house, in fact it was almost a mansion.

Summoning up a bit of courage and telling the butterflies in his stomach to calm down, he held onto his helmet, undid his leather jacket and walked up the stone steps to the front door. Once there he knocked on the wood and an elderly butler of some sort came to answer with a polite bow.

“Welcome to the party,” the old man in the dinner jacket said. Aramis smiled and thanked him.  “Do you have your invitation?”

Aramis suddenly paused, he wasn’t sure if he had even brought it. He patted at his pockets and discovered his phone but nothing else.

“No, sorry, I….my name is Rene. Rochefort said that I…”

“Ah, Rene,” the man said, smiled and bowed again. “I was asked to look out for you. Please, may I take your coat and helmet?”

Aramis reluctantly passed them over and immediately looked around. Even the entrance hall was huge with a large staircase that reminded him of Downton Abbey. He smiled to himself for a moment, thinking that Athos would like this place.

The butler seemed to quickly reappear minus the jacket and helmet, swooping his arm towards the direction of the music.

“Please, you can go in,” he said and Aramis smiled his thanks before leaving the sanctuary of the entrance hall to head into something slightly more chaotic. The room was busy but there were a few people Aramis recongised and quite a few which he didn’t. His attention was immediately drawn to the fact there were women around, which Aramis was grateful for. He had worried that the party would be full of male squash players, but that obviously wasn’t the case.

The music was slightly too loud and the room was quite dark, although the flashing disco lights went some way in illuminating the room, albeit in a slightly hypnotic way. Aramis walked around smiling at people until he saw Pierre sitting on a black leather couch with a champagne glass in his hand. He raised it at Aramis with a grin before going back to the conversation he was having with the man sitting next to him, although they did glance over in his direction a couple of times. Aramis decided to continue walking.

“Merry Christmas, Rene!” came a cheer from behind him and he felt his back being slapped. He turned and smiled at someone else whose face was a little familiar but he didn’t know the man’s name.

“Thank you, you too,” he said and suddenly a glass of champagne was shoved into his palm. He took a sip and chatted to his friendly drink giver for a while. Asking about his plans for Christmas and whatever polite small talk he could think of. Then, when he got bored, he continued to explore.

So far nothing seemed strange but so far there was no sign of Rochefort. Aramis walked around the large room which took him a good few minutes, especially when he kept on stopping to inspect the books on the bookcases and the ornaments on the shelves. Rochefort appeared to be quite the collector of historical items. He had old pocket watches, compasses and all sorts of interesting bits and pieces. Sadly Aramis couldn’t really see anything properly under the crazy disco lights.

He took another sip of his slowly disappearing drink and continued to walk around. He was stopped by a pretty female red-head who was studying him curiously.

“Is this your first time?” she asked, appearing genuinely friendly as she came over.

“Yes,” Aramis admitted.  “I’ve never been here before.”

She smiled and reached out, giving his arm a quick stroke which Aramis found a little forward but perhaps she was just very outgoing and a little drunk. “You’ll be fine. You can just watch if you’re nervous.”

Aramis paused and squinted at her. “What?” he asked but someone seemed to call for her and she glanced over her shoulder and waved at her friend before turning her attention back to Aramis.

“Sorry, excuse me for a moment.”

She disappeared off and Aramis finished off his drink. Watch what? Aramis stood on his own for a while, trying to understand what she meant when one of the squash players came over. A man in his mid-30s who was tall with big dimples and too much gel in his hair.

“Rene, I heard that you were invited. I was hoping that you’d come.”

Aramis smiled. They were very nice when they wanted to be. “Well Rochefort asked and I thought it sounded like fun.”

“Yeah,” the man licked his lips as he looked down to inspect what Aramis was wearing. “It will be fun once it starts. Are you going to join in? Because I…well…I’d like to be one of your first. You know, if you’ll let me?”

Aramis’ eyes went wide. “First what?!” he blurted out before he could help himself. Suddenly a horrible realisation dawned on him. “Oh god, please tell me this isn’t a swingers club.”

The man burst out laughing. In fact he laughed so loudly that, even over the music, people heard and turned to look. Aramis felt embarrassed about the stares and wished that the man should shut up but the human just pressed his hand against Aramis’ chest as he sniggered and snorted. Aramis stared down at the hand as he didn’t much want it there. He thought that perhaps if he stared daggers down it, the man would remove it.

“Oh wow, I’m sorry,” the man sighed with his continuing amusement. “Do you not even know? Did Rochefort not even tell you? That man really is a bastard sometimes.”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Aramis admitted, still staring at the crazy human. “Maybe you should tell me.”

It was then that Aramis felt a shiver rush down the entire length of his spine. Something wasn’t right. He looked past the shoulder of the human and his eyes darted around the room. He could sense something strange and had a feeling that….he suddenly saw her; her skin was flashing red, yellow and green under the dizzying lights. A woman with thick, black, curly hair was walking around the back of one of the couches. She was running her long fingers over the shoulders of the men sitting down but was staring over at Aramis. She smiled at him with her bright red lips then winked. Aramis knew automatically what she was; she was a vampire. His fingers gripped onto his empty champagne glass tightly.

“Please,” he said, suddenly reaching out for the human in front of him with his spare hand, getting a good grip of the man’s shirt. “Tell me what this party is.”

The man suddenly didn’t look amused anymore. In fact he looked a little scared, his feet were trying to inch him away from the angry vampire but Aramis’ grip on his shirt meant that he couldn’t move back too far. “It’s a feeding party.”

What the fuck is a feeding party? Aramis thought but let go of the shirt. The man hurried away and Aramis searched the room again for the vampire but she had disappeared somewhere into one of the dark corners.

“Rene!” Oh dear god, not now. Aramis turned and saw Rochefort coming over. The man was dressed in a pair of leather trousers and a black shirt which was open almost half-way down exposing a great deal of his chest. His arms were open wide and he looked very pleased with himself. “You came.”

Aramis was so confused that he could barely move. He wanted to run away but he found himself being embraced by Rochefort instead. The man squeezed him tightly before pulling back but he kept a good grip of Aramis’ shoulders with his strong hands.

“It’s so good to see you,” Rochefort said as he studied Aramis’ face, mostly staring down at his mouth which made Aramis panic for a moment because he thought he was going to be kissed.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Aramis admitted. Strangely he saw Rochefort as the person who might be-able to actually help him. Or at least Rochefort would explain it, surely?

Rochefort appeared to understand enough to nod. He let go with one hand whilst the other moved from Aramis’ shoulder to slide down his back. He pushed Aramis firmly, making the vampire walk alongside him, leading him towards a door. Aramis went with Rochefort, he didn’t have much of a choice.

They were soon standing in a smaller adjacent room which was empty of people but had a large circular table in the middle which looked like it was used for gambling judging by the card decks and casino chips. The room, at least, was quieter.

“The first rule is this you do not kill. The second rule is this….you do not kill.”

“W..what?” Aramis stuttered, grateful that Rochefort had stepped away at least. “I wasn’t going to kill anyone.”

“Good,” Rochefort smirked for he hardly ever smiled. “Necks are out-of-bounds and you must never feed on anyone unless they offer themselves to you. But you’re beautiful so I doubt you’ll have to ask. They’ll all come to you. In fact I suspect they’ll be queuing up.”

“Who will?” Aramis asked, still none the wiser to what was going on although he was starting to suspect.

“The humans,” Rochefort pointed out. “Now I am happy to answer your questions but I must get the party started first or people will begin to get impatient. Wait here for me if you wish.”

“Rochefort, wait, I….” Aramis called but Rochefort ignored him and left the room. A moment later he heard the music getting quieter and Rochefort began speaking to his guests. Only Aramis wasn’t listening to what the human was saying, he was too busy looking around for a way to escape. Unfortunately his options were limited as the room only had two doors, one at either end. So he ran for the one on the opposite side of the room. He pushed at the handle but it wouldn’t budge. He shook the handle furiously but the door was locked shut. Aramis stepped back and wondered if he could kick it down but decided against it as so far no-one had forced him to do anything, surely he could just leave?

A cheer came from the main room and then the music changed from Christmas music to something with a heavy beat. Aramis went into panic mode again when he realised that Rochefort would soon come back, so he went over to the window and undid a latch. Using his vampire strength he managed to heave it up despite a creaking protest coming from the wooden frame. He looked outside, there were large bushes obstructing his view but he could probably fight his way through them.

“Planning to escape?” Rochefort asked as he re-appeared in the room. Aramis glanced over at him but didn’t speak. “You can just use the front door. You’re not a prisoner here, Rene, so there’s no need to be dramatic. Close the window.”

Aramis hesitated but then reminded himself why he was there in the first place; for Athos and d’Artagnan. He slowly pushed the window back down.

“Sorry,” he muttered like a school-boy who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Shh it’s okay,” Rochefort said as he came closer. “Tell me what the matter is.”

“I don’t think…I don’t really understand what’s about to happen,” Aramis admitted. “And I’m not sure I want to.”

Rochefort shook his head and tutted. “Well if you don’t even know, why are you so afraid? Rene…” The human stepped even closer, reaching out and running his fingers down Aramis’ arm until he found his hand. There he took Aramis’ hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “It is you who has the power here, you. There’s no need to be afraid.” Whilst one hand continued to hold onto the vampire’s, the other reached out and he stroked at Aramis’ hair. “My beautiful vampire.”

“I’m not _your_ vampire,” Aramis snapped, stumbling backwards and pulling his hand away. He couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t stay. Rochefort was freaking him out and the party clearly wasn’t just an innocent gathering.

Rochefort seemed to just nod. “Yes of course. Come on. We can go and get your coat if you really want to leave.” Rochefort turned and walked towards the open door. Aramis faltered and looked over his shoulder at the window but then sighed. Perhaps there was some way he could still salvage this and make sure that Rochefort wasn’t too mad at him. He followed Rochefort out of the room, back into the main room where a smell immediately hit him…blood.

His legs made him continue to walk behind Rochefort but he wasn’t sure how. The small crowd of people which had gathered around to watch something parted for them both like the red-sea as they approached. It didn’t take long for Aramis to discover what they were all staring at. On the leather coach was a man in a suit, groaning and withering in what appeared to be pleasure as the dark-haired female vampire Aramis had seen earlier sucked blood from his arm hungrily. Aramis stared at them in horror and fell backwards against someone in the crowd as he attempted to get away. He immediately turned, apologised to the person he had tumbled into and then tried to fight his way back through the onlookers.

Somehow he managed to end up in another corner of the same room where two male vampires were feeding on a man who was on his hands and knees. Although the nearly naked human was no victim; he was moaning, begging them to do it and pleading with them not to stop. But the two vampire’s pulled their teeth away which caused the man’s blood to trickle down his skin from his open bite wounds. The smell of it was filling Aramis’ nose and making his skin itch. He found himself standing there frozen as he stared and watched as the vampire’s moved so quickly that their actions could barely been seen. Then one of the vampire’s bit into the man’s shoulder as the other sunk his teeth into the flesh covering the man’s hip. The human screamed once again in pleasure. Aramis found his arms shaking. He could just go over there and join in. Have a quick drink. No-one would know. The human was begging them for it after all.

Suddenly he felt warm hands wrapping around him from behind. He jumped and turned his head to discover that it was Pierre holding him tightly. Pierre’s hands moved down Aramis’ chest towards his stomach.

“What are you…” Aramis tried to ask but Pierre cut in, whispering into his ear.

“Will you drink from me? Please. You’re so pretty. They all want you but will you feed from me first?”

“No I… I don’t…”

“Taste my blood,” Pierre begged, his fingers started to grip onto Aramis’ shirt. “Please. Drink from me.”

Aramis wanted to. He wanted to so much. Pierre wanted it as well but no….no, if he drank now he’d be back in that chair. He’d be in the chair over Christmas and Porthos and the others would be so disappointed in him. Porthos would feel so let down. What if Porthos never forgave him?

Aramis fought the hands off, furiously pushing the arms away. When he managed to wiggle out of Pierre’s grip he ran. He darted through the gawping guests until something caught his footing and he fell. He crashed face-first onto a soft rug.

On the ground he twisted around to see what he had fallen over. It was a female human this time. Her dress was pushed up to her hips as her back arched and her fingers clawed at the rug. A male vampire had his face between her legs and was drinking from the inside of her thigh. Aramis could hear the slurping and gulping. She looked over at him and smiled.

Aramis felt his teeth starting to push through his gums. No, he screamed in his head. No, no, no! He scrambled forward and then stumbled back up onto his feet. Then he ran, he ran for the door and didn’t let anything stop him until he burst through it and skidded into the hallway. There he bent forward and tried to calm himself down.

“Rene?” came a gentle voice. Aramis slowly lifted his head and stood back up. Rochefort was there, with Aramis’ leather jacket in one hand, the helmet in the other. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d enjoy this. Feeding without killing. I thought you’d find it fun.”

“I…I…” Aramis couldn’t speak, he could barely think. His teeth had gone back in but the smell of blood lingered in his nostrils and his head was spinning with desire. “I don’t drink blood anymore,” he suddenly blurted out.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Rochefort said, sounding genuinely apologetic. He went over and passed Aramis his jacket. “Come on. Come outside with me. Let’s get you some fresh air.”

Aramis grabbed his jacket followed Rochefort gratefully out onto the steps and stumbled to the side, reaching out to grab onto the bannister. Once the coldness of the wind hit him he closed his eyes and breathed in the refreshing smell of fresh air.

“I’m so sorry,” he heard Rochefort say from beside him a moment later. “I didn’t even think about asking. I don’t often meet vampires like you.”

Aramis didn’t want to open his eyes because then reality would come crashing down but he reluctantly did so. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, actually finding himself wanting to reassure the man that he had done nothing wrong. “You weren’t to know.” Aramis started putting his jacket on. He had every intention of going straight home and finding Porthos.

“Some vampires like coming here,” Rochefort said as he watched Aramis do up his leather jacket. “They don’t have to kill anyone but they can feed. And the humans, well as you can see, enjoy themselves.”

“It’s dangerous, Rochefort,” Aramis informed him sternly. Aramis had lived for a long time and, during that time, had seen many twisted things. Perhaps he should have stopped being shocked a long time ago yet, still, anything which involved dragging humans into their closed off world was asking for trouble as far as he was concerned. Vampires had strict rules about such things. “The more humans that know vampires exist, the more chance we’ll all be exposed. If the world found out about vampires then…well I dread to think what would happen.”

“Oh I know,” Rochefort insisted. “That’s why I find out everything I can about them before they get an invite. Humans have to go through a very long and vigorous process before they get to join my squash club. I check their background, their family, friends and associates. Then I get them to sign a contract and even make sure their blood is tested for anything out of the ordinary. Their wives and girlfriends aren’t allowed to join in unless they go through the same process.”

Aramis listened and, for the first time, didn’t feel so frightened of Rochefort anymore. The man was a bastard but he was a sensible bastard and the conversation was giving Aramis the perfect opportunity to dig a little deeper.

“And what happens if someone breaks their…contract?” he inquired.

“Oh that has only happened twice and they were both dealt with,” Rochefort informed the vampire bluntly then held out the bike helmet. Aramis took the helmet but he wanted to keep asking questions now that he felt like he was finally getting somewhere.

“And how do you deal with them?”

Rochefort eyed him up with his one good eye starting to look a little suspicious. Aramis tried to look innocent.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Rochefort asked, still eyeing him warily. Aramis just nodded.

“Well,” Rochefort began. “Someone else didn’t believe that I could deal with it so he sent one of his…people to sort it out.”

People? Milady? Who was the _he_? Richelieu? Had Anne been right? Aramis worried about asking too much more so kept quiet.

“You can stay if you like,” Rochefort offered after a bit of an awkward silence. “You don’t have to go back into the room. We could go upstairs. I don’t want you to leave like this.”

Aramis raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t entirely sure what Rochefort was planning to do upstairs but he certainly didn’t much like the sound of it.

“Sorry I just can’t be around that at all. It’s hard, you know, giving up blood. You have to distance yourself from temptation.”

Rochefort squinted a little as if he wasn’t convinced. “Is that why you spend all day long massaging people?”

Aramis snorted. Rochefort and Athos thought alike. “I need the money.”

Rochefort suddenly stepped forward. “Rene, I have money. Look at my house. I have a lot of money. They pay me well.”

“And why does that make a difference to me?” Aramis asked, actually starting to chuckle. The conversation was starting to turn ridiculous.

“Because I like you,” Rochefort seemed to admit. “I like vampires. Why else do you think I do this? Why else would I take the job and host such parties?” The blond human stepped forward, he was staring at Aramis’ mouth as he got closer. Aramis walked backwards but he soon found his legs up against the stone bannister of the steps. “Vampire’s excite me, Rene. You’re a mixture of danger and elegance. A beautiful tapestry of life and death. I want to be one. I begged him to let me be one but he doesn’t let me. He tells me to stay human so I can connected with the humans he needs. So I’m forced to watch and enjoy and lust from a pitiful distance.”

Fucking hell, Aramis thought, Rochefort was very messed up. Who would _want_ to be a vampire? He was about to shove the bastard away when lips were suddenly on his own. He gasped in shock at the kiss. Rochefort was pressing his lips so hard and forcing his tongue inside his mouth with such fervency that Aramis found himself immobilized. He heard Rochefort groan just before warm hands slapped either side of his face to keep his head in place. Aramis was amused almost and turned on perhaps a little at the need seeping from the human’s mouth. He’d never been kissed like it before, with such passion and desperation that Aramis actually felt dazed. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before sense flooded back to his head and he pushed against Rochefort’s shoulders to shove him away.

The human stumbled backwards and was left panting. He suddenly wouldn’t look at Aramis, he was staring down at the floor with his one good eye.

“Rochefort…” Aramis said, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of the hole he’d just dug himself into “…I should really go,” he just said honestly. He could fight Rochefort off if he really had to but the human seemed to be done. In fact the human just slowly nodded before straightening himself up.

“I hope you have an enjoyable Christmas,” Rochefort said and even smirked to himself a little. Clearly he had enjoyed the one-sided kiss. Aramis attempted to smile back. If they left on good terms then Aramis had every chance of finding out who wouldn't let him be a vampire, who had sent someone to ‘deal’ with the men that broke their contract and, more importantly, was it Milady who had done the deed?

Aramis turned before something else happened and jumped down the steps with one giant leap. What a bizarre night. He desperately wanted to get back to Porthos and the house which was the only place where everything felt safe. He walked down the pathway towards his bike when he saw a shadow lingering in the darkness amongst the trees. Someone had been watching them. As he walked over to his bike he stared at the stranger before discovering that it wasn't a stranger at all, it was a very furious looking ghost.


	26. Monopoly

“Athos!” Aramis cried with surprise a second after he realised who was watching. He started to walk faster, automatically heading over to the line of trees where Athos was lingering. The ghost made no attempt to move away but he was staring at Aramis with a look of utter disdain. As Aramis got closer he slowed his steps; Athos really did look very angry.

“What are you...what...” Aramis couldn’t even form a question. He paused and pulled his thoughts together, trying to ignore the way the furious eyes of the ghost were burning into him. “Why are you here?” he tried to ask calmly despite the way he was panicking on the inside.

“I found your invitation. I thought it was strange that you were lying to us.”

“I didn’t lie to you,” Aramis said automatically, the new lie slipping from his mouth frighteningly easily but he was scared that Athos would tell Porthos.

“You’re lying again,” Athos said sternly and Aramis cringed a little. The ghost was right, he was. Aramis let out a long sigh and glanced back over his shoulder just to make sure that Rochefort had gone back inside and wasn’t watching them. Thankfully there was no sign of the creepy human.

“I didn’t...I didn’t want you to worry. I had to do this,” Aramis pointed out and then turned back to the ghost. “I found some stuff out about your ex-wife and...”

“You kissed him,” Athos interrupted. “I saw you. How could you do that to Porthos?”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Aramis said, waving his hand back and forth and shaking his head. “What you saw is him kissing me. I mean come on, really, did I look like I was enjoying that?!” He pointed in the direction of the front door where he had been moments before committing the act which Athos was now accusing him of.

“I don’t know!” Athos suddenly yelled which made Aramis flinched. After a few more seconds of silence Athos paused as if he was trying to replay the scene in his head. Then he sighed and his shoulders sagged slightly. The anger seemed to be seeping from him a little. “Actually it did rather look like he pounced on you. Who he is? You must tell me the truth now, Aramis, no more lies.”

Aramis nodded slowly and ran his fingers through his hair. Athos was right, they did promise each other no more secrets. Not even if those secrets had been created for good reasons...at least in his own head.

“He’s Rochefort,” Aramis explained. “He’s in the squash club. He’s sort of their unofficial leader. He knows that I’m a vampire and invited me to this party. But I didn’t know what it was, Athos, I swear I didn’t. As soon as I found out I ran outside and then, well, you saw the rest.”

“What sort of party is it?” Athos asked with a frown. Glancing over Aramis’ shoulder at the house curiously.

“Umm one of the men called it a feeding party. There are some vampires feeding on humans but the humans want them to do it and no-one gets badly hurt.”

Athos was left a little speechless and Aramis didn’t blame him. They both stood in awkward silence whilst Aramis waited for Athos to say something.

“You didn’t...”

“No!” Aramis said quickly. “I freaked out and escaped. God no I didn’t. I mean I wanted to...my body wanted me to. But I’m not going back in that damn chair.”

Athos looked relieved and he even nodded at Aramis. Now that Aramis knew Athos wasn’t as angry anymore, he decided to give the ghost the good news.

“I think Rochefort knows your ex-wife and there’s something else, a man, a vampire I think. He won’t let Rochefort become a vampire and he sent your wife or whoever it was to kill those two men because the men stepped out of line and broke their contract.”

“What contract?” Athos asked and it made Aramis sigh. He was swinging on his feet, itching to get away from the party and back home.

“Can we talk more when we get back? I need to get out of here. Are you still pissed off?”

“I don’t know,” Athos admitted. “I don’t know if I want to yell at you or…” Athos seemed to stop himself mid-sentence. Then his gaze moved away from Aramis and he was looking out somewhere in the distance. “…I am not angry. I know your intentions were good even though you didn’t think your method through.”

Aramis smiled, not really understanding what Athos meant but he sounded a little like forgiveness. He began walking back to his bike and Athos soon followed. The ghost swung his leg over and climbed onto the back. For a brief moment Aramis suddenly worried about the fact he didn’t have a spare helmet until he remembered that Athos was a ghost and dead so, therefore, it didn’t much matter. Although it did make Aramis ponder about how Athos got to the party in the first place but he decided not to ask; he just wanted to go home.

Aramis rode perhaps a little too fast home but Athos seemed to manage to hang on and it wasn’t long at all before they pulled up outside their house. Just the sight of the familiar brick walls comforted Aramis and knowing that Porthos would be home…actually terrified him. He took off his helmet and twisted to face the man behind him.

“You’re going to make me tell Porthos, aren’t you?” he asked and the ghost nodded. Aramis sighed and knew full well he wasn’t going to be-able to talk his way out of this one.

They both clambered off the bike before Athos added, “But perhaps miss out the kiss part.”

Aramis smiled and gave Athos a grateful pat on the shoulder before he got out his key and opened up the front door. He could hear the TV on and Porthos sat up confused when they both walked into the living-room.

“You’re back early,” he said, trying to smile at Aramis as they entered but his eyes were darting between the ghost and the vampire and he actually looked more confused than pleased. “What happened?”

They all sat down and Aramis told them everything. He told them about Rochefort, the squash club, the party and the contracts. He repeated what Rochefort had said but, as Athos had suggested, missed out the part about the kissing…and the hair sniffing…and the massage. By the time Aramis had stopped talking Porthos had a big frown on his face.

“I don’t want you going to that squash club ever again,” he said quietly. “In fact, I think you should hand your notice in on Monday and leave the spa as well.”

“Porthos!” Aramis automatically sat up straight and protested. “There’s so much more I can still learn from Rochefort. He knows Milady, I’m almost sure of it. We could use him to find her.”

Porthos looked horrified at the suggestion. “Use a man who hosts parties where vampires feed on humans for kinky reasons? You going near him again is a bloody awful idea.”

“I’m fine though, look,” Aramis moved across the sofa to get closer to Porthos so the werewolf could touch him. “I’m fine. I was strong. You don’t have to worry about all that.”

“This time you managed to resist,” Porthos pointed out. He didn’t seem much more comforted despite Aramis moving closer. “And you are strong, I know you are. And I trust you. But we all have limits. What if he learns which buttons to push? What if he wants you to ‘perform’ so badly that he drugs you or something?”

Aramis sighed and shook his head. “You’re making up bad scenarios in your head which won’t even happen. He didn’t force me to do anything.” He glanced over at Athos who was staring at him. He was suddenly reminded about the kiss but, no, he wasn’t going to mention that part. “He’s just a vampire obsessed human. I can handle Rochefort. I’m so close to finding out more about Milady. It would be silly to give up now.”

Now Porthos was looking over at Athos, as if to gage his thoughts on the matter and silently ask for help. There was silence for a moment before the ghost finally spoke.

“It does seem that Aramis has the favour of this Rochefort. If he can indeed find out more from this man, then it would help us a great deal.”

That obviously wasn’t what Porthos wanted to hear because the werewolf growled. “Do I have to remind you what happened the last time Aramis put himself out there to ‘help’ us? Do I really have to fucking remind you?”

The ghost remained quiet, Aramis turned his attention back to Porthos. “That won’t happen again,” he promised his lover. “That will never happen again.” He reached out to stroke Porthos’ cheek and, surprisingly, the werewolf shoved his hand away. Aramis recoiled feeling shocked at the rejection. But then Porthos’ bottom lip quivered and tears filled his eyes. Aramis’ heart broke. The memory of Bonnaire and the cage was obviously still so raw for Porthos and the guilt he felt was still there.

“It’s okay,” Aramis whispered and then moved forward to wrap his arms around the werewolf. This time Porthos didn’t push him away. He opened up his arms and pulled Aramis close and they held each other. “It’s okay,” Aramis continued to whisper then closed his eyes and just squeezed Porthos for a while. When he eventually opened his eyes again he noticed the cushion underneath Porthos’ elbow.

“Since when did our cream cushions start looking so tatty and old?” Aramis said as he pulled away from the embrace. “I told you we should have got the brown ones. I said that cream was just going to get dirty really quickly. Those brown ones would have lasted longer.”

Porthos paused and stared at him blankly for a moment before turning his head to try and look at the cushions.

“And our curtains,” Aramis said, now distracted by looking at the window. “We still have the ones which are too long. Why do we still have those?! We never went back to get better ones. Oh my god. This place looks like a student house!”

Porthos continued to stare a little mystified as Aramis look around the room.

“And didn’t we call our landlord about the stains on the carpet? Why hasn’t he come round yet? Why didn’t we chase him up? It’s like we don’t even care!”

“Is he having a break-down?” Porthos asked Athos although he was looking at the vampire.

“I have no-idea,” Athos muttered. Aramis sighed dramatically and fell face first into Porthos’ chest. The werewolf chuckled and wrapped an arm around him.

“You’re just tired, love,” Porthos suggested. “The cushions won’t seem so awful once you’ve had some sleep.”

“You two should go to bed,” Athos said, obviously having had enough of all of the hugging and cuddling which was going on in front of him. “I will stay up to wait for Casanova to return from his date.”

“No,” came a mumble from the face pressed into Porthos’ chest. “I wanna wait up and hear what happened.”

Porthos smiled affectionately down at Aramis. “Alright. Then let’s get comfortable and wait.”

So they did. Soon the vampire and the werewolf were curled up together underneath a blanket on the spacious sofa and Athos was in his chair. It was only the vampire who was asleep. Porthos was curling a lock of Aramis’ hair around his finger as he turned his head a little on the cushion Aramis hated so much and looked over at Athos.

“You worry, I worry, if only we worried about the same thing at the same time, then maybe we’d actually win an argument.”

“Sorry,” Athos said and then thought about it. Porthos was right. It had been Athos who wanted to put a stop to Aramis’ spa adventures at first and now it was Porthos. How the tables had turned.

“If you really are worried about him,” Athos continued. “Then I can tell him to stop.”

Porthos thought about it and adjusted his head a little. “I don’t think he’ll listen to us anyway. He does what he likes.”

Athos nodded, the werewolf was right, Aramis did what he liked. Probably because he had been alive for longer than any of them so, therefore, perhaps assumed he knew more than anything of them. Unfortunately Athos wasn’t entirely convinced that was true.

“We just need to encourage him to be honest with us,” Athos suggested. “If we know what’s going on then we can protect him better. Well…you can protect him better. I don’t know what I would do.”

Porthos smiled a little up at the ceiling. “Hey, Mr Hero, don’t forget what happened with Bonnaire. There’s no need to be modest.”

“Well Ninon helped with that,” Athos pointed out which made Porthos look over at him again.

“You heard from her?”

Athos shook his head. “I have not.”

Porthos continued to look at him sadly but didn’t say anything further. He wanted to hug the ghost truth be told. Not that he was sure the ghost would want to be hugged. He was soon distracted by a key in the front door.

“Hey,” he whispered down at the sleeping vampire and gave him a little shake. Aramis woke up and lifted his head just as d’Artagnan walked into the living-room. The human was looking at them all confused.

“Why are you all down here?”

“Why do you think?” Porthos said and smiled as he sat up, trying to untangle himself from the vampire. “Well?”

D’Artagnan stood there and sighed sadly for a moment. Suddenly all of their moods turned a little sour…until a smile started to creep across d’Artagnan’s face and they realised that he was fooling them.

“It was reeeeally good,” he informed them with a delighted grin. “We talked and talked over dinner. The play was wonderful and she just laughed and smiled the entire evening. Then, when I got her back to her house, she gave me a kiss. Just a quick one. Like a two second one…but it was on the lips!”

“On the lips?” Aramis laughed as he sat himself up next to Porthos. “Wow, that’s like…first base already!”

D’Artagnan glared at him. “I was being a gentleman like Athos taught me. A small kiss on the first date is perfectly adequate, isn’t it, Athos?”

The ghost nodded, he also looked a little bit proud.

“I’m happy for you,” Porthos informed the lad. He liked Constance and he liked d’Artagnan, he considered this new development a very good thing. And the fact it was diverting d’Artagnan’s attention away from Aramis made it a double-good thing.

“So, what do I do now?” the human asked. “Do I text her now or wait until tomorrow? Should I ask her out on a second date already?”

Athos decided to bestow more of his gentleman’s guide to dating expertise.  “It’s late, she’ll be going to bed now. So text her in the morning. Say how much you enjoyed the date then wait for her honest response. If she seems happy then ask her out on a second date.”

D’Artagnan smiled. “You guys are the best,” he said, before turning and heading up to his room. “You really are,” they all heard him say as he got to the top of the stairs and it left them smiling.

“He hasn’t mentioned his father’s murder in weeks,” Aramis pointed out which made Porthos nod.

“Yeah, all he does now is talk about his job, how excited he is about going to college and now Constance.”

They all sat in silence for a while until Athos finally said what they were all thinking.

“Let’s not tell him what Aramis found out. He doesn’t need to know.”

\-----------------------------------

It was Christmas Eve and The Garrison was packed. Both Treville and Porthos were behind the bar serving drinks to all of the merry locals. D’Artagnan and Gerard were busy in the kitchen and a couple of students Treville had temporarily hired for the Christmas period were racing around serving food. Athos sat silently at the end of the bar, because he didn’t have much else to do.

However, as the evening eventually started drawing to a close in the early hours of Christmas morning, things began to feel a lot calmer. Once the food had stopped being served, d’Artagnan and Gerard spent some time cleaning up in the kitchen before finally emerging looking utterly shattered.

“Great job, guys,” Treville said with a smile as they appeared. “I had no-idea it would be so hectic.”

“That was amazing,” d’Artagnan mused in a dream-like exhausted state.

“You two are amazing. I heard nothing but good things about the food all evening,” Treville told them and then fumbled underneath the counter for something, eventually pulling out some white envelopes. He handed one to his head chef and one to d’Artagnan.

“A little Christmas bonus, to say thank you.”

Gerard gave him a firm hand-shake, smiled and then left to go back home to his family. D’Artagnan grinned from ear-to-ear. He opened the envelope and gasped.

“Wow! I could buy Constance something really good with this.”

“Well buy something for yourself as well,” Treville suggested. “Maybe some good chef knives for college.”

“Oh yes, good idea!” d’Artagnan said and shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket. Treville still had another envelope in his hand and turned, passing it to Porthos.

“And one for you,” he said to his helpful barman.

Porthos tutted. “You didn’t have to,” he insisted but found the enveloped being shoved into his palm.

“Honestly, Christmas bonus. You’ve all worked so hard and I appreciate it. You can buy something nice for Aramis.”

Porthos smiled and blushed. He hadn’t realised that Treville even knew they were an item. “Thank you,” he mumbled before moving away to start clearing the empty glasses, wondering if he maybe spoke about Aramis a little too much.

“Goodnight, Captain!” one of the old regulars shouted before grabbing his walking stick and leaving the pub. He had been the last customer, so now they were alone.

“Why did he call you Captain?” Athos asked. He had heard a few men give Treville that title and it had left him curious. Treville looked up, confused for a brief moment before realising who it was. Treville could hear Athos now although he still couldn’t see the ghost. It was an interesting development and one Athos tried not to think much about because he didn’t understand it and he hated not understanding things.

“I was in the military for twenty years,” Treville told the air because he had no-idea where Athos was.

Athos nodded, he had suspected as much. “I too spent some time in military service,” he told Treville.

“How long for?” Treville asked as he went about cashing up the till.

“Five years.”

“It didn’t agree with you?”

Athos paused for a brief moment before deciding that he could trust Treville with his story, they had trusted Treville which much worse. “I fell in love and she didn’t want to marry an army officer. Anyway, by that time my parents had died so I also had a big estate to manage and a reckless younger brother to look after. Why did you leave?”

“I was injured. They offered me a job behind a desk but I decided that it was time to try something different. So I used my compensation money to buy this place.”

Athos looked around and decided that Treville had made a good choice.

“So, where is the vampire tonight?” the human asked.

“Midnight mass,” Athos informed him.

Treville paused, raised his eyebrow then continued counting up the money. “Aramis goes to church? God you lot are confusing.”

\------------------------------------

Porthos waited outside the church and watched everyone leave. He felt a little concerned when Aramis didn’t emerge. The street was soon silent, everyone tucked up in bed waiting for morning to come. It was a freezing cold night but so far no snow. Still, it felt like Christmas and Porthos was quite excited about it.

However, when Porthos waited another couple of minutes and Aramis still hadn’t come out, he decided to go and look for him. He stepped inside the church and smiled politely at two members of the choir who were clutching song-books and hurrying home. Then he spotted Aramis, standing in the aisle talking to the Priest. The grey-haired Priest was smiling at him. Porthos waited patiently and looked around the church. It was quite impressive but he had never been one for God or religion. Still, Aramis was and Porthos respected that. Although Porthos had no-idea how Aramis dealt with the rather confusing conundrum of being a Catholic bisexual vampire.

Aramis eventually finished talking to the Priest and turned, grinning madly when he noticed Porthos.

“Hey,” he said and resisted the urge to touch the werewolf until they got outside.

“Was it good?” Porthos asked as they began their walk home.

Aramis nodded. “Yes. They were asking for people to volunteer for the soup kitchen, so I’m going to help out a couple of times a week.”

Soup kitchen? Porthos was confused but he wasn’t going to question it either. If Aramis wanted to help out in the soup kitchen…

“You shouldn’t take on too much, ay? I’ll never see you,” was all Porthos said.

“I won’t be in the squash club forever,” Aramis pointed out then he looked down at the ground as they walked home.

“Hey,” Porthos said after an unusual silence between the pair of them. “You okay?”

“I…I know I can never make up for all of the things I’ve done,” Aramis said quietly. The comment made Porthos frown. Was that why the vampire wanted to work in the soup kitchen? Out of guilt?

“Well, Aramis, you were made into a vampire. It’s not like you really had a choice. Or at least not one you understood.”

Aramis nodded slowly. “Yes, but I wasn’t forced to kill. I chose to do that for many, many years. I know that the Bible teaches forgiveness and I’ve begged God for it many times but sometimes I wonder…well…perhaps there are some things which are just unforgiveable.”

“Hey!” Porthos felt angry about the thoughts Aramis was having in his head. He stopped and grabbed Aramis by the arm, pulling the vampire to a halt in the middle of the empty street. “Where is this coming from?”

Aramis looked around at the dark night sky filled with stars on the clear cold night. “I was just thinking I…I was just thinking.”

“Well stop thinking,” Porthos informed him. “And if going to that place is going to make you feel shit about yourself, you should stop going.”

Aramis smiled a little, although perhaps sadly. “Going to church doesn’t make me feel shit about myself. It just makes me want to be a better person. It’s like…” Aramis began walking again and Porthos followed. “...wanting to make your dad proud. You know he’ll forgive you, even if you mess up again and again, but you want to make him proud because you love him very much. Only the things I’ve done…maybe I don’t deserve his mercy.”

“Yes you do,” Porthos said. “I know you haven’t told me ‘bout all the things you’ve done but, you know what, it doesn’t matter to me because I know you’re a good person with a good heart. You just did things to survive until you discovered that you didn’t have to. If I see you like that, then God does too. He knows what’s in your heart. He’s bloody God, ain’t he?”

Aramis went quiet for a moment before a little whisper of, “Thank you,” came from his lips. He suddenly leaned closer to Porthos and wrapped his arm around the werewolf’s. “Merry Christmas, Porthos.”

\------------------------------------

Christmas started off as quite the joyous occasion. Especially as Constance’s brother had gone off to India for a month so she was able to join them on Christmas Day. Constance and d’Artagnan cooked a very impressive Christmas lunch and, after stuffing their bellies full, they argued over which games to play. Athos wanted to play Risk, d’Artagnan wanted to play Operation, Aramis wanted to play strip poker and Porthos wanted to play hearts. Eventually Constance’s suggestion of Monopoly seemed to win the day only it just created the usual arguments.

“You’re cheating,” d’Artagnan said accusingly at Porthos, eyeing up the money he had on the coffee table which they were all sitting and kneeling around.

“I am not,” Porthos defended himself with a frown.

“You are,” d’Artagnan continued. “You only had 400 euros a moment ago, now you have a 500 euro note as well. Where did that come from?”

“Aramis lent it to me.”

D’Artagnan looked from Porthos to Aramis. The vampire was staring down at his phone checking facebook.

“You can’t just give each other money!” d’Artagnan pointed out, feeling exasperated at the pair of them.

“Why not?” Porthos asked. “It’s his money. If he wants to lend me some then it’s his choice.”

“Because that’s not how the game works!”

“Well I don’t mind,” Aramis said, turning his attention away from his phone back to the game. “He can repay me in sexual favours later on. You and Constance should set up a similar system.” He grinned wickedly which made d’Artagnan blush and Constance chuckle.

“Steady on, we’ve only been on one date. D’Artagnan has a lot more work to do yet,” she pointed out.

D’Artagnan continued to look a little flushed but kept his mouth shut as Athos rolled the two dice. Athos was winning; he was close to buying hotels whilst the others were struggling to even get matching street sets. Athos always won at Monopoly, it was a wonder the rest of them still played it with him.

Porthos smiled at Aramis who smiled back then watched Athos moving, cheering with joy when Athos finally landed on one of his spaces. Porthos liked the fact that Aramis was able to brag to the others about their sex life despite the private difficulties they faced. Although Porthos had come up with an idea about that, a Christmas present which he was going to present to Aramis a little later on when the others weren’t around.

Aramis delighted in collecting money from Athos then had his own move. They all kept a close eye on the vampire as Aramis had a habit of making up game rules as he went along. He landed on a chance square, picked up a card and frowned.

“Urgh, I have to pay you all fifty euros.”

“Well don’t worry ‘bout paying me, considering you just gave me five hundred.”

“That’s not how the game works!” d’Artagnan pointed out sternly, he was back to being exasperated.

Aramis turned to him and smiled. “And what can I give you to get out of my debt hmm?” He shuffled on his knees to get closer to the human who was leaning sideways away from the approaching vampire. “What would you like?” Aramis whispered, moving even closer, pushing his chest up against d’Artagnan’s arm and nuzzling his nose against the human’s ear. D’Artagnan swallowed and clearly looked a little tense as he attempted to stare at the vampire out of the corner of his eye.

“Oy,” Porthos grumbled as he watched the pair. Aramis bit down on d’Artagnan’s earlobe teasingly which made Constance giggle.

“Well that wouldn’t work on me, Aramis. Fifty euros please,” she said and held out of her hand. Aramis sighed and moved away from d’Artagnan, leaving the human bright red and flustered.

“Oh, Athos,” Aramis suddenly said just as his fingers were inches from his pile of money. “We haven’t even given you your present!”

“Oh no, we haven’t,” Constance said with a grin and clapped her hands together excitedly. Athos looked at them all confused.

“I was not expecting a present. I mean, I’m afraid I haven’t…”

“Don’t worry,” Porthos interjected. “We aren’t expecting anything from you. It’s just Constance came up with an idea so we all helped her out a bit.”

Aramis got up and went over to the back of the sofa, pulling out a rather large box wrapped up in red and gold Christmas paper.

“You said that we were not going to do presents,” Athos protested, not sounding overly excited about his gift.

“I know, but we decided to ignore that rule for you,” Aramis pushed the box over on the carpet towards the ghost who just sat there on his arse staring at it.

Aramis waited for a moment before eyeing the ghost up. “So…the idea is to rip the wrapping-paper off and open the box. You have done this before, right?”

Athos continued to look annoyed with them but reached out and tugged the wrapping paper off very carefully, as if he was planning to save it for another occasion. When the paper was eventually removed from the box and folded, Athos paused again.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Aramis said and decided to help. He grabbed the tape on the box and tugged it off, opening it up for Athos. Inside there were at least twenty books, all of different shapes and sizes.

“Where did you..” Athos began to ask but then got distracted reaching inside and pulling a couple of the books out. One was on Alexander the Great and the other on Napoleon. They weren’t in perfect condition but they were perfect to Athos.

“We scoured all the charity shops for history books,” d’Artagnan explained with a smile, now having gotten over Aramis’ flirtation. “We know how boring it must be for you being a ghost and all so thought you could work your way through them.”

Athos pulled out another couple of books and started to smile a little then, as if embarrassed about his smile, quickly wiped it off his face.

“This is…wonderful. Thank you very much,” he muttered. The others knew full well how happy he was and that was enough for them. Aramis gave the ghost’s shoulder a little squeeze.

“You’re welcome. Right, Porthos you go,” Aramis said, crawling back to his spot on the carpet. Porthos picked up the dice, shook and made his boot piece move five squares.

“Hold on!” d’Artagnan suddenly yelled. “Aramis, you haven’t paid everyone the money yet.”

“Too late,” Aramis pointed out. “Porthos has moved now.” He snorted then laughed and had a miniature green house thrown at his head by the human. Aramis looked over at Porthos with a pout at the attack.

“Protect me.”

Porthos rolled his eyes and decided that the vampire could protect himself but he did have another idea. “Hey, d’Artagnan look, Athos likes the book you picked for him.”

As d’Artagnan’s head turned to watch as Athos quietly examined his presents, Porthos reached over the coffee table and stole some money off d’Artagnan’s pile. Constance snorted but it didn’t alert d’Artagnan to the thievery.

The game ended with Constance purposely losing early to go and make them all hot chocolate, Aramis being disqualified, Porthos coming third despite his constant cheating, d’Artagnan sulking and Athos, who was actually far more interested in his books, winning. The moment the game was over Athos gathered up a couple of the books and went over to his chair.

Aramis smiled as he watched him go. “We did good,” he said quietly to Porthos who nodded his agreement. Whilst Athos wasn’t smiling he probably looked the happiest they had ever seen him all because of a box of silly old books.

“Can we watch a Christmas movie?” d’Artagnan asked as he packed away the game.

“As long as it’s Love Actually,” Aramis said as he got up onto his feet only to freeze when there was a knock at the door. They all looked at each other blankly.

“But we’re all here,” Aramis whispered which made Porthos laugh.

“Athos should go and get it again.”

“Get it yourself,” mumbled the ghost who was already engrossed in a history book.

“I’ll go,” d’Artagnan said and walked out into the hallway. When he opened up the door he came face-to-face with a stranger.

“Can I help you?” he asked, trying to sound polite but it came out far grumpier than he had intended. The girl with the messy blonde hair looked at him confused.

“Fuck me, how many of you live here? Where’s Porthos?”

D’Artagnan was a little baffled but called for the werewolf over his shoulder. As soon as Porthos saw who it was he grinned.

“Flea! This is a nice surprise. Merry Christmas!”

“Yes,” she said but didn’t seem very merry at all. “Porthos, that woman I met the last time, your friend, didn’t you say that she was a mid-wife? Where do I find her?”

Porthos was a little taken back by the words flying out of Flea’s mouth but he could see that something had happened just by the look on her face and he automatically felt obligated to help.

“You can find her in our kitchen. But she’s not…”

Before Porthos had a chance to explain, Flea pushed between the two men and looked a little confused in the hallway for a moment before remembering which way the kitchen was. She darted through the archway and saw Constance putting dishes away.

“I need your help.”

Constance closed the kitchen cupboard and turned to her looking confused. “Excuse me?”

Flea stepped forward. “There’s a woman at the court, she’s giving birth. None of us really know what to do. Porthos told me you were a mid-wife.”

Constance looked over Flea’s shoulder at the werewolf who had also appeared in the doorway. She sighed at him before turning her attention back to Porthos’ friend.

“I’m sorry but not really. I trained for a year but then I had to drop-out.”

“But you know a little?” Flea asked, stepping forward, the desperation clearly evident in her voice. “Please, she’s literally in labour right now.”

Constance turned away and busied herself picking up the knives and forks from the drying rack and putting them into the drawer. “Then take her to the hospital, I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“We can’t,” Flea explained. “She’s a werewolf and the baby…well I guess the baby must be as well. She’s scared they’ll take it away or something. She’s refusing to go anywhere.”

“W-what?” Porthos spluttered as he moved closer to Flea. “But that’s not even…is that possible?”

Flea looked up at him, for he was quite a few inches taller than she was, and nodded. “It’s possible. It’s rare but it’s possible. I mean she is literally giving birth in my bed right now, so it must be fucking possible.”

The shock of the situation turned into something else for Porthos…delight. A werewolf baby? That was something quite special. Although his smile soon vanished when he realised it was also quite frightening at the same time.

“Please,” Flea begged, looking from Porthos back to Constance. Constance hesitated as she really didn’t know what to do. She remembered very little from her one year in University but, still, that meant she had more experience than most. She sighed, took her apron off and smoothed out her dress.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

Flea smiled with relief and then went back out into the hallway. Porthos looked at Constance apologetically, she sighed and shook her head at him but she wasn’t angry at Porthos. However, there was some anger building in the hallway which soon caught the attention of the werewolf.

“No you’re not,” Flea hissed as Porthos went out to see what was going on.

“I am,” Aramis was staying sternly with a frown on his face. “Try and stop me.”

“I will stop you, Leech,” Flea took a step towards the vampire. “I’ll stop you and a whole pack of werewolves still stop you. Vampires are not welcome at the Court of Miracles.”

Aramis glared at Flea but then looked over at Porthos pleadingly. “I want to come,” he said. Porthos sighed. He didn't understand why Aramis would even want to come and they didn’t have time for an argument.

“I’m sorry, love. You know the situation.”

As if shocked that Porthos hadn’t stood up for him Aramis twisted around and stormed back into the living-room. “What a bunch of prejudice Neanderthals,” he muttered as he left. Flea growled and looked like she was about to go for him so Porthos stuck out an arm and grabbed her.

“Isn’t someone giving birth on your bed?”

“Oh!” As if she suddenly remembered she grinned at seeing Constance behind Porthos. “Come on, quick.”


	27. Like a purebred spaniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Made by Isalen

“Fucking Flea and fucking werewolves,” Aramis was ranting as he marched around the living-room in his socks. Athos had slouched in his favourite arm-chair busy reading a book on the Anglo-French Hundred Years’ war which was balancing on his knee. He was attempting to ignore the angry, pacing vampire. In fact Athos thought that it was rather unfair that the rest had disappeared and left him to deal with it because they all knew how difficult Athos found emotions. So ignoring the situation seemed to be the best thing to do in the circumstances. He hoped that, one Aramis had finished seething, he’d run out of energy, calm down and watch a movie.

“Even when I give up blood and try to do the right thing they still treat me like I’m a murderer. Like I’m evil. Fuck them. What right do they have to judge me? And fuck Porthos, it’s Christmas Day and he’s with _her_ instead of me.”

Athos did lift his head at that comment, finding himself wanting to defend Porthos and his actions.

“He isn’t with _her_ , Aramis,” Athos said calmly. “He has gone to help out a woman having a baby.”

“Yeah because Flea asked him to. He wouldn’t have done it if someone else had asked.”

“I think you’ll find he would have,” Athos muttered and his gaze went back to his book.

“Well fuck you too. Fuck the world. I hate it,” Aramis made a pathetic sob noise and then threw himself dramatically face-first onto the sofa.

“You know,” Athos sighed as he looked over the top of his hard-back book once again, wondering why on earth he always gave in and got involved but he found himself having to say something. “Now you’ve done such a successful job of giving up drinking blood, perhaps you could attempt to give up swearing next,” Athos suggested which caused the vampire to sob pathetically some more into the cushions then mumble something which resembled ‘I hate you’ but Athos couldn’t entirely be sure.

Athos did smile a little though and as the vampire turned his head he caught Athos’ eye. Then the vampire’s mouth was soon twitching up into a matching smile.

\-------------------------------

Flea hurried them all through the Court of Miracles which was covered in banners and home-made bunting as they celebrated Christmas. Most of the humans and werewolves were too busy laughing, dancing and getting drunk on cheap cider to pay much attention to their visitors.

D’Artagnan found himself constantly giving Constance reassuring smiles whenever he could because she looked understandably nervous about the whole situation. When they reached Flea’s bedroom in the rundown building there was a small gathering of curious people trying to peer in through the doorway. Flea growled at them all and pushed them aside. Then she quickly led her guests into the room.

On Flea’s bed was a sweaty red-headed woman wearing nothing but a dressing-gown, screaming with her legs wide open. Porthos and d’Artagnan froze in the door-way at the sight, the reality of what was happening suddenly crashing down for them. Constance didn’t have a chance to freeze as Flea grabbed her arm to make sure that she didn’t run away and dragged her across the room. There was also a skinny teenage girl sitting beside the bed, moping the mother’s forehead with a wet flannel.

“Constance meet Agnès, Agnès meet Constance,” was the way in which Flea introduced them both. Constance smiled down at the scared looking woman.

“Hi, don’t worry, I’ll do what I can,” Constance reassured her although she worried about the truth behind her words. She literally had no-idea if werewolf births were any different to normal births but she quickly decided that she could only do what she knew. So she gathered herself together and went to the end of the bed, kneeling down to have a peek before reaching out with her fingers to check how dilated Agnès was.

Everyone else stood there waiting patiently. Which was when Porthos realised that he recognised the woman currently panting furiously on the bed; it was the lady from the woods, the one who had seen him and then run away. He opened his mouth to say something to her but Constance got there first.

“Right, we’re almost there,” Constance said calmly as she stood back up. She sounded confident but the sharp puff of breath and panic in her eyes gave away her true state. But she went into midwife mode right in front of them, reaching out to feel Agnès’ swollen belly. Again they all stayed silent as they waited. Constance had the attention of the whole room, even Agnès had stopped screaming, her eyes fixed hopefully on the ‘mid-wife’.

“It certainly feels like the baby is in the right position and it wants to come out. D’Artagnan, I need towels. Porthos, I need you to boil some hot water and find hair-clips and some nail scissors.”

The boys looked lost so Flea waved them over and they all disappeared to fetch the items. Constance felt like she could breathe once they were gone from the room and placed a reassuring hand on Agnès knee.

“You’re going to be just fine. You’re doing an amazing job.”

Agnès panted some more and nodded furiously, unable to speak. Then she cried out as another contraction hit her.

\--------------------------------------

“I am absolutely furious.”

Aramis appeared unconvinced as he sat on the sofa facing the ghost but he repeated the phrase anyway. “I am absolutely furious.”

“I am so angry that I feel like I could scream at the top of my lungs,” Athos said.

Aramis laughed but then once again repeated Athos obediently.

“I feel like my entire world is falling apart at this very moment, crumbling around my feet and I am struggling to put the rage I feel into words.”

The vampire couldn’t repeat it any longer, he was too busy laughing. Athos rolled his eyes at him and waited for Aramis to calm down.

“I can’t,” Aramis wheezed. “No-one talks like that, Athos.”

“I do,” Athos commented and appeared a little offended which gave Aramis cause to snort.

“Well no you don’t actually,” he pointed out. “You hardly ever express your feelings apart from the two times you’ve yelled at me.”

“And I apologise once again for losing my temper on those two occasions.”

“You don’t have to,” Aramis reassured him. “Sometimes I deserved a shouting at. I….” Aramis began to look a little uncomfortable and glanced around the room, staring at the tinsel which was hanging haphazardly over the lamp before he continued his unfinished sentence. “…I think I might leave my job. I don’t want to upset Porthos. I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear.”

Athos felt disappointed and then silently told himself off for feeling that way. He was the one who had told Aramis not to take the job in the first place so he had no right to change his mind just because Aramis was getting close to finding out where Anne was.

“I understand,” he said, hoping that would help ease the vampire’s mind.

“I’ll still go to the squash club though,” Aramis said, his gaze turning back to the ghost, his expression trying to offer Athos some reassurance. “Rochefort likes me, he’ll let me play. He might even pay my gym membership fee. He did offer me money.”

Athos sighed and shook his head, “You do not want to be in his debt, Aramis. That would make it worse for you. Don’t worry, we can figure out another way.”

“No, no, trust me, it’ll work out better,” Aramis promised. “I’ll have more time to focus on finding out what’s going on for you. Although I will have to look for another job pretty soon. Even with Porthos and d’Artagnan working money is still tight.”

Athos nodded, “I wish I could help in that regard. I will try and think of something.”

“Eh,” Aramis shrugged and looked a little nonchalant about the entire thing. “You don’t eat or wash or do anything which costs us any money really. Don’t worry about it, we like having a pet.”

Athos’ eyes went wide. “Pet?!” he scoffed. His shock on his face made Aramis laugh.

“You’re so cute and fluffy. Like a purebred spaniel.”

“I’ll give you cute and fluffy,” Athos growled, got up from his seat and went over to attack the vampire. Aramis was in hysterics by the time the ghost pounced on him and started poking at his body rather violently. “Would you like to see how hard I bite?”

“Hmm yes please,” Aramis said as he wailed with delight at the somewhat violent attention he was getting from Athos, trying to fight Athos’ hands off but only in a half-hearted attempt.

\---------------------------------

“Oh my god, is that the baby’s head? Oh that’s gross.”

“D’Artagnan,” Constance hissed. D’Artagnan looked guilty so stepped away, deciding that he probably didn’t want to look down there anyway.

“Can I push?” Agnès gasped, her body was exhausted and she was beginning to look very pale underneath the glistening layer of sweat on her face. Flea was sitting beside her now, offering her a hand to squeeze. Porthos could tell by the way Flea kept on flinching that Agnès was sometimes squeezing a little too hard.

“Yes, I don’t think you have much of a choice,” Constance said. She was kneeling down at the end of the bed with towels covering the bed-sheet and, with everything else nearby, she was about as ready as she was ever going to be. “Push, Agnès.”

The woman screamed and pushed. Porthos hated it; he hated seeing someone in so much pain. It reminded him of what happened during a full-moon which made him think of the baby. If the baby was a werewolf then…well what did that even mean? How could a baby go through that every single full-moon? Would it even survive? Amazingly it had so far.

Agnès cried out again and Constance continued to encourage her.

“That’s it, well done. You’re doing it. Take deep breaths, wait for the next contraction and push again.”

“I can’t do it!” Agnès shouted and then started sobbing. Flea immediately moved closer and brushed some of the red-hair off the sweaty face.

“You are doing it,” Flea reassured her. “You’re doing it. Keep going. Almost there.”

D’Artagnan’s curiosity got the better of him and he had another peek. Something was coming out….he cringed and averted his eyes again just as Agnès began screaming once more.

“Keep going, keep going…” Constance was repeating. “It’s coming, you’ve almost got the head through!” Constance reached out to give a gentle tug to help a little. As soon as the baby’s head was out Constance checked to see if the chord was wrapped around the neck. It appeared to be okay. “Keep breathing. Push again when you can. One more big push. Come on, Agnès.”

They all waited for a little while before Agnès began panting furiously once more then pushed, her face going bright red to match her hair as she tried her hardest to get the baby out. Then she gasped and collapsed back onto the pillows. Constance was there was a towel and immediately wrapped it around the naked, messy creature. She rubbed at the baby furiously, willing it to breathe.

“Come on, little one,” she said, tears of relief and panic and everything else filled her eyes. “D’Artagnan, help me,” she begged and d’Artagnan immediately jumped closer and fell to his knees beside her. Constance passed the limp child to d’Artagnan. “Rub it with the towel, quickly,” she encouraged as she clamped the umbilical cord with the hair-clips. It only took a couple of seconds for the shocked baby to start crying, its skin going a healthy shade of pink as it did so. Constance smiled as she cut the cord with the small scissors. Then she carefully took the baby off d’Artangan and passed it slowly to Agnès. Agnès took the child with a sob and held it close to her chest as she cried with tiredness, pain and happiness.

“You have a son,” Constance told her with a smile.

\-----------------------------

“Aramis,” Athos said after they had stopped fighting. In fact Aramis had to declare Athos the worthy winner because he was close to laughing so hard that he had almost wet his pants. So, after a quick visit to the bathroom, Aramis had returned and they were both sprawled over the sofa watching some TV show which Aramis seemed to be interested in but, as always, Athos knew very little about.

“Does it feel like you’ve been alive for decades?” Athos asked quietly to the man who had somehow curled up beside him. Athos’ arm was wrapped around the vampire and he still had no-idea how that had happened.

“Sometimes,” Aramis admitted as continued to watch TV. “Sometimes I still feel young, like I was only born a short time ago and I still don’t really understand a whole lot. Other times I feel sad and tired and I wish that I could get old like everyone else.”

“Is that part difficult?” Athos asked. “Watching everyone else get old?”

“Of course,” Aramis admitted. “I feel like I’m constantly getting left behind and it’s always hard watching someone you care about die."

There was silence for a moment as Athos thought. “Porthos will get old.”

“I know,” Aramis whispered.

“And d’Artagnan and Constance will get old. And I will eventually have to leave you. And, when we’re all gone, you’ll still be here.” Aramis stayed quiet. He just blinked at the TV. “That…” Athos wasn’t even sure how to put his thoughts into words. “…will be hard for you.”

“I try not to think about it,” Aramis admitted. Athos looked across at him and saw the sadness in the vampire’s eyes. He freed his arm from behind Aramis’ back and gently stroked Aramis’ hair feeling bad for bringing up the conversation. Yet it was Aramis who asked the next question.

“Are you scared of leaving?”

“I…” Athos thought about it for a moment, he wasn’t really sure. “…I don’t even really know what it means to leave. So I don’t know. I am more worried about leaving you all behind.”

Aramis suddenly pushed himself up until he was more level with the ghost, he was looking Athos right in the eyes. “Then maybe we shouldn’t rush it. Maybe I should leave the squash club. If we don’t find your ex-wife then you won’t get justice and you won’t have to go.”

Athos looked at Aramis for a while and knew that, whilst the vampire was right, finding Anne and getting 'justice' was like a constant thirst he had that wouldn’t be quenched until it was done. He also had to do it for d’Artagnan. The young man might have been distracted from his trauma in recent weeks but he also deserved to see his father’s murder avenged.

“I have to find her,” Athos admitted.

The vampire just nodded slowly. “We all have our demons I suppose,” Aramis said quietly, inching closer to the ghost . “But at least you can do something about yours.”

“What are your demons, Aramis?” Athos asked, his eyes searching the face which appeared to be slowly approaching.

“All of the people I’ve killed. I can’t bring them back, I can never bring them back.”

Athos could see the pain in the vampire’s eyes. The shadows of the dead people who haunted him; those that the vampire had drunk from over the years. Athos swallowed, wondering how on earth Aramis lived with the guilt which must be weighing so much on his mind.

“Were there many?” he asked, not entirely sure that he wanted to know but finding that a dark part of him was curious.

“There was enough,” Aramis whispered, which didn’t really answer anything. Soon his face was inches away from the ghost’s. He looked lost, like he was searching for someone in the ghost’s face.

“You cannot blame yourself for doing something which your body forced you to do in order to keep yourself alive.”

“Of course I can blame myself,” Aramis sighed. “I blame myself every day.”

“You should not, because you cannot change what you did in the past. You are trying to do the right thing now and that counts for a lot.”

“Does it?” Aramis asked, tears filling his eyes. “Because sometimes it feels like I’m getting let off far too easily. I’ve murdered people and yet here I am, trying to pretend to be normal. Working in a spa, having a boyfriend, living in a house, celebrating Christmas. The people I killed, they don’t get to have any of that. They’re dead because I killed them. I took away their chance of a life. They didn’t get to see anymore Christmases.”

“But those people weren’t people to you back then, were they?” Athos said, thinking that he understood it at least a little. At least enough to try and reassure Aramis. “They were food. You saw them like humans see cows and pigs. You weren’t thinking that you were taking away their chance of a life, you were thinking that you had to survive and live. You didn’t know at the time that there was a way to be different.”

“I…I wasn’t myself at all,” Aramis stumbled with his words but they poured out nevertheless. “The blood it…it turns you into someone else. Your mind…everything is heightened and you can’t control yourself. You don’t know what you’re doing and you have all these dark thoughts, these dreadful nasty whispers in your head, telling you to say things and do things. And you just have this thirst and this need and you can’t stop until you’ve satisfied it. But, even so, that doesn’t excuse anything I’ve done. I’m no better than your wife.”

“No,” Athos reached out and grabbed the side of Aramis’ head, slipping his fingers into Aramis’ hair he held him firmly, wanting to make sure that the vampire heard everything which was about to say. “You are nothing like her. She doesn’t do it to live and she doesn’t do it to survive, she does it because she can. Trust me, they’re very different things.”

“But…I enjoyed it as well. You don’t understand,” Aramis was openly crying now. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and pooling at the corners of his lips. “I enjoyed feeding. I’m evil.”

“And now how do feel about killing now?”

“The thought sickens me. Now I know I can live without blood and I’m myself again, the thought of killing an innocent human is just…I couldn’t do it in a million years.”

“Then are you a different person. You are. You just need to see that. Don’t you trust Porthos’ judgement? He’s a werewolf for goodness sake. Everything in his very being should hate you for what you are but he loves you. Don’t you trust his judgement?”

“Porthos is…” Aramis sighed. “….Porthos. Amazing, kind, forgiving, sweet and he likes to believe there’s good in everyone even when there isn’t. He isn’t the best judge of character…especially when sober.”

Athos felt a little exasperated. “And what about my judgement?”

“You’re an idiot too.”

“You can’t really think that.”

“No…no I don’t.”

“Then stop. Just now you were cursing the werewolf lady for judging you, for assuming that you were evil. And yet it seems that you judge yourself far more harshly. Aramis…you need to forgive yourself.”

Athos couldn’t continue the conversation anymore. Seeing the guilt and blame Aramis had bestowed on his own conscious was heart-breaking. He tugged the vampire forward, pulled the cold body against his own and held him tightly.

\------------------------------------

“He’s cute,” d’Artagnan said with a grin as he helped Constance carefully wipe the rest of the blood and muck off the little newborn baby with a warm flannel. Constance smiled as she watched the tiny child wiggle about, arms and legs failing wildly as he cried.

“He is,” she agreed. “And he looks healthy.”

In the corner of the room Porthos and Flea were whispering but Constance ignored them for the moment, Agnès was almost passed out on the bed exhausted and Constance wanted to get the little boy back to his mother as soon as possible.

“Fetch that clean blanket, d’Artagnan and we’ll wrap him up in that before he gets cold.”

D’Artagnan obediently did so and, once a blanket was wrapped around the baby tightly, the little lad seemed to settle and stop crying. D’Artagnan lifted him up and held him carefully.

“Is Agnès going to be alright?” he asked, looking over at the mother as he gently rocked her child. Constance glanced over at her.

“I hope so,” she admitted. “She hasn’t passed the placenta yet which can cause some complications…” Once her attention was back on d’Artagnan and she noticed how confused he looked she smiled at him affectionately. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. Why don’t you place the baby beside her?”

D’Artagnan nodded and very carefully walked back over to the bed with the baby in his arms. Agnès appeared to wake up when he came closer and almost sobbed with happiness when d’Artagnan passed her child back.

“He’s okay?” she whispered quietly.

“Constance says so,” d’Artangan told her, just as Constance came over, wiping her hands clean on a damp towel. She was looking more at Flea and Porthos than Agnès.

“You really need to get them to see a doctor, just to make sure everything’s okay.”

Much to her surprised Flea nodded in agreement. “Doctor Lemay is a werewolf but no-one can find him. As soon as he’s found we’ll get him here. But…” Flea reached out and grabbed both Porthos and Constance by the arm, dragging them away from the new mother who was quite distracted by her baby anyway. Still, when Flea spoke it was a whisper. “…we need to keep this very quiet. Werewolf babies are so rare that it can be dangerous for them. I’ve been told stories of vampire’s kidnapping werewolf babies to train them up and raise them to fight against other their own kind.”

“They’re just stories, Flea,” Porthos pointed out. “We don’t know how true that is.”

“No,” Flea agreed. “We don’t because we’ve never had a werewolf baby born here before. Usually they die long before they’re born when the mother goes through a full-moon. This is special, this is unique. You can’t fucking tell anyone.”

“We won’t,” Constance reassured her. Who would she tell anyway?

Flea suddenly stared up at Porthos. “Don’t tell Aramis,” she ordered before turning to walk back towards the bed. It left Porthos confused.

“Flea, he knows,” he called after her “He knows why we’re here.”

“Well tell him that the baby died or something,” she said over her shoulder before sitting back onto the chair next to the bed. Porthos looked over at Constance who shrugged at him. It wasn’t her place to tell Porthos if he should lie to Aramis or not, although she would have a hard time doing so herself. Chances were that d’Artagnan with his youthful enthusiasm would blurt it out before either of them had the chance to say anything anyway.

\---------------------------------------

In order to cheer Aramis up, Athos had agreed to watch Love Actually with him and, much to his surprise, rather enjoyed the film. Or perhaps he just enjoyed how happy it was making Aramis. Aramis clearly knew most of it off by heart but he still grinned and cheered when the couples he liked got together and sighed sadly when others didn’t.

When the film came to the end it was Aramis who looked over at the ‘modern art’ clock they had on the wall which looked like it had been put together from scraps of metal found in a junk yard. Aramis had once insisted to Porthos that it was unique but he now thought was ugly. Still, it told them the time.

“Where are they?” he asked, even though he knew Athos wouldn’t have an answer. It was getting late, Christmas was almost over and the others still hadn’t returned.

“Babies often take time to be born,” Athos pointed out.

“This is the worse Christmas ever,” Aramis said and pouted. “And I’ve had a lot of Christmases.”

Athos sighed as he sat himself up a little. “I am sorry that you are not enjoying yourself.”

Aramis gasped and immediately reached out to place his hand on Athos’ arm. “No I am! I am. I like being here with you it’s just that I wanted to spend my first Christmas with Porthos well…with Porthos.”

“I understand,” Athos said with a nod, trying to ignore the cold hand on his arm. “Would you like me to wear something furry and pretend to be him? I growl quite well.”

Aramis looked at Athos shocked for a moment before he snorted and then laughed. “Athos! You just made a joke!”

Athos blushed slightly. “I joke sometimes.”

Aramis was still laughing but he managed to say, “No you don’t,” before he sighed and calmed himself down. He was soon staring at Athos which made Athos feel a little funny, even more so when the vampire reached out slowly and gently stroked some of Athos’ hair back away from his face. Then Aramis moved closer and Athos found himself not wanting to stop him. There was thick tension in the air as the vampire’s lips inched towards the ghost’s and Aramis’ eyes fluttered closed. Athos could feel the cool breath on his face and he found himself closing his own eyes, willing Aramis to continue but too afraid to move just in case it made the vampire stop…but then there was a click of a key in a door and voices suddenly filled the hallway.

 


	28. We need thicker walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Author's notes - Sorry for the delay! I've gotten a little distracted starting another story which I will post in a few weeks time but I haven't forgotten about this story, I will never forget about this story, I will end this story and not leave it unfinished...even though I secretly never want to finish it...]

“But will they be safe there?” Constance was asking as they all began to take off their winter coats, gloves and boots in the hallway.

In the next room Athos and Aramis pushed themselves away from each other with a shove of panicked hands and quickly sat apart. There were both adamantly not looking at it each as they listened to the voices coming from outside the room.

“I don’t know,” Porthos responded to Constance, oblivious of what had happened elsewhere in the house. “I’m amazed that the vampires haven’t tried getting revenge already after what happened with Bonnaire but maybe they’re taking their time. Although they really have no-way of knowing which werewolf pack it was.”

After Porthos had hung up his long black coat he walked a few short steps down the hallway to appeared in the arch-way leading into the living-room. There he smiled at the ghost and vampire, pleased to see them both again. Whilst he had only been gone a few hours it had felt like longer. “Hey guys, we’re back. Sorry we were so long.”

Aramis seemingly took a moment to compose himself before smiling up at Porthos. “That’s okay! How did it go? Are both mother and baby okay?”

He stood himself up and walked over to Porthos, only slowing his strides when the two humans also appeared and he noticed the strange look the three of them were giving each other. It was Constance who shrugged and made a decision on behalf of all of them.

“Yes, they’re both fine. Flea told us not to tell anyone though so, Aramis, you must keep it to yourself.”

“Of course I will,” Aramis responded with a frown, actually feeling somewhat annoyed that anyone would think he’d blab. He opened up his arms and immediately went to Porthos for a cuddle. Porthos smiled and wrapped his arms around the vampire, holding him tightly against his chest. He liked it when Aramis was needy because he knew that he could do something about it.

“I missed you,” Porthos admitted, kissing the vampire’s forehead affectionately. “Have you been okay?”

“Yes,” Aramis mumbled into Porthos’ shoulder “Athos has been teaching me not to swear and we watched Love Actually.”

“Good,” Porthos said and smiled over Aramis’ shoulder at the ghost; the ghost who was looking incredibly uncomfortable for some reason. In fact Athos wouldn't even look at them and seemed suddenly transfixed by something on the TV.

It puzzled Porthos for a moment but he decided to focus on the more pressing need because, judging by the way Aramis was whining and pushing himself even closer against Porthos' body, Aramis wanted some attention. So Porthos whispered into the vampire’s ear, “Do you want to go to bed? I haven’t given you your present yet.”

Aramis pulled his head back and looked at Porthos puzzled. “But we said that we wouldn’t do presents.”

Porthos smiled. “I know. This is only a little thing. But…we need to be alone.”

Aramis suddenly grinned and nodded. He gave Porthos a quick kiss on the lips before finding his hand and locking their fingers together. “Goodnight everyone,” he said, tugging Porthos out of the room. Just as they were leaving he looked over his shoulder at Athos. At the same time the ghost glanced up and gave Aramis a little nod, hoping to show his approval of the fact the vampire was back where he belonged, with Porthos.

A few minutes later Aramis was sitting on his bed and waiting in anticipation. What had just happened with Athos was in the back of his mind but he was attempting to brush it away by focusing on Porthos, his boyfriend, the man he loved very much. When that very man came back into the room, closing the door behind himself and producing a small box, Aramis' interest was sparked.

“Don’t freak out when you first see it, okay?” was the first thing Porthos said which made Aramis feel a little confused.

“Freak out?” Aramis asked, taking the box and examining it in his hands. But it was plain and brown which didn't give a whole lot away.

“Yeah,” Porthos said, sitting down on the bed and clearly looking anxious. “Let me explain but open it first.”

Aramis shrugged and opened up the box deciding that, if the present had come from Porthos, he'd like it regardless of what it was. His eyes immediately noticed the shiny silver coloured metal. He reached inside and pulled out two hand-cuffs with fluffy black material around the edges. Aramis didn’t freak out, in fact he just chuckled.

“Porthos, you kinky devil.”

Aramis’ reaction was clearly the one Porthos wanted and he visibly calmed down and smiled. “I wasn’t sure if it would give you chair flash-backs but I was just thinking and figured that, if you can’t reach me, then you won’t bite me, will you?”

Aramis continued to stare down at the hand-cuffs and thought about it, Porthos had a point. If Aramis was tied to the bed, how would he hurt the werewolf? His grin began to grow wider.

“You’re both intelligent and handsome,” he mused. “How did I get so lucky?” He placed the hand-cuffs down onto the bed for a moment and crawled across the mattress to get closer to the werewolf.

“I have no-idea,” Porthos teased with a smile and seized Aramis’ face the second it was close enough for a much needed kiss.

\----------------------------------------

“I should really go home,” Constance pointed out, stretching out her legs as she sat on the couch beside d'Artagnan. “It’s getting late.”

D’Artagnan, whilst feeling sad that she wanted to go, nodded in understanding until he was distracted by the sound of Athos clearing his throat. D’Artagnan looked over at Athos curiously because he didn’t usually cough. He was a ghost after all, he never got ill. Athos stared at him from the top of his book and d’Artagnan could clearly tell by the look in his eyes that d’Artagnan was doing something wrong. As Constance made a move to get up and leave d’Artagnan thought for a moment and then, eventually, it occurred to him.

“Oh!” he bounced up from the couch himself. “Let me walk you home. You can’t go by yourself in the dark.”

Constance smiled at him affectionately but kindly refused his offer only d’Artagnan, under the glare of Athos’ eyes, became very insistent.

“No, please, I want to walk you home. Or why don’t you stay here? You were amazing today, you must be exhausted.”

Constance thought about the offer for a moment and studied the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time she had slept over and her own empty home did feel like a terribly long way away. “Well…alright. I might as well I suppose considering I’ll be back here tomorrow anyway. Would you mind fetching me a blanket for the couch?”

“Couch?!” D’Artagnan hadn’t meant to suggest that she should sleep on the couch. “No, no, I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have my bed. Come on, I’ll go and get some clean sheets.”

D’Artagnan smiled at her which made Constance smile back. Even Athos was smiling a little as they left the room.

Upstairs d’Artagnan walked across the hallway to get some clean bed-sheets out of the cupboard and that was when he heard the noises. He frowned for a moment and paused. Constance, who was waiting for him beside his bedroom, began to wonder why he had stopped.

“What’s that noise?” he whispered loudly over to her.

Constance moved closer because she couldn't hear a thing. “What noise?”

They both listened and soon it became clear what noise d’Artagnan was talking about. It sounded like a dog whimpering but then groans floated down the hallway and it was quite clear all of a sudden that it wasn't an animal...

“Oh god that’s embarrassing,” d’Artagnan whispered when it became obvious that the noise was coming from Aramis’ bedroom. Constance somehow managed to put her hand over her mouth right before she started laughing.

“We need thicker walls,” d’Artagnan pointed out and tried not to laugh himself. He grabbed whatever bed-sheets he could get his hands on and closed the cupboard door quickly just as Aramis started screaming out Porthos’ name.

“Quick,” d’Artagnan said and, with the hand which wasn’t carrying all of the clean sheets, he grabbed Constance and they both ran back down the hallway giggling.

\------------------------

“You’re so loud,” Porthos pointed out with a chuckle as he continued to straddle Aramis. He reached up with his spare hand and placed it gently over Aramis’ mouth. The vampire was arching beneath him, his two wrists tied securely to the bed posts with the hand-cuffs. So far the hand-cuff idea was working incredibly well although Porthos figured that also buying Aramis a metal bed would probably be quite sensible idea as he was fairly certain Aramis could break the wooden one if he really wanted to.

“Oh, Porthos….Porthos….” Aramis continued to whimper, the words muffled underneath palm of the werewolf’s hand. He also was desperately thrusting his hips up into Porthos’ warm fist which was currently stroking the vampire's leaking erection.

“Yeah? That feel good?” Porthos teased. He knew it did. He could tell by the loud noises the vampire was making how good it must have felt.

“Yes,” Aramis whimpered and nodded frantically. Porthos removed the hand covering Aramis’ mouth, hoping that the vampire would be a little bit quieter and not make it obvious to the entire household what they were doing. But Porthos was secretly loving it. He loved watching Aramis come undone underneath him. He loved seeing Aramis attempting to thrust his hips off the bed and closing his eyes in ecstasy. He loved watching the way Aramis chewed onto his bottom lip in an attempt to keep himself quiet but failing quite miserably. And he loved how Aramis felt in his fingers, thick and hard, wet and hot. And Porthos could see it all as he knelt over his naked lover; he could watch every twitch of muscle as his wrist started to speed up, stroking that little bit faster. The action only made Aramis groan even louder.

“Porthos…Porthos...I’m gonna…”

“I want you to,” Porthos encouraged, his wrist pumping frantically now. He could tell by the way Aramis was tensing and tugging at the restraints that he was close. Porthos leaned forward, desperately trying not to slow down the action of his fist but he needed to taste the vampire’s skin. He found a nice starting spot on Aramis’ shoulder and kissed along his collarbone, tasting the sweat of his lover on his lips. He could hear Aramis even more from that angle, all the beautiful gasps and whimpers.

“Porthos!” came a final cry and Porthos sat up to watch. Aramis’ sharp fangs were out and, when Aramis began to explode out all over Porthos’ hand, he opened his eyes and they were as black as the midnight sky. But Porthos didn’t stop, he continued to stroke Aramis until he had milked every last drop and it was only then that Aramis finally calmed down. He sighed as his body sunk into the mattress and his black eyes closed as he enjoyed the blissful after-effects.

“That was…oh,” Aramis sighed with contentment and laughed. Porthos smiled as well. He was glad that they had finally found a temporary solution to their problem. He even leaned forward and gave Aramis a quick kiss on the cheek, trying his best to avoid the teeth. Then he climbed off Aramis’ lap to fetch some wet wipes.

“Oy!” Aramis cried, opening his eyes again to reveal that they were still black but he seemed calm and not overly bothered by it. “Where you going? Don’t leave me tied-up!”

Porthos smiled at him affectionately. “Just gonna clean you up, love,” he assured the vampire. “I'm not going anywhere.”

\------------------------------------

Constance watched somewhat amused as d’Artagnan attempted to change the bed-sheets as quickly as possible. She did offer to help but he brushed her away, determined to do it himself. She smiled and realised, not for the first time, what an absolute joy d’Artagnan was. Cute, sweet…sexy.

“You know I...we could just share the bed,” she suggested, with a little shy shrug. D’Artagnan stopped his bed-making attempts to stare at her. As he knelt on the mattress with the duvet cover still in his hands he swallowed.

“Well…I mean…if you want to? I’d like that.”

“I’m not implying that anything else should happen...” Constance began and d’Artagnan immediately shook his head, getting her meaning straight away.

“Oh no, no, no,” he confirmed his understanding, letting go of the sheet. “Just sleeping, right? That sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” she was smiling. “It does. Although we could…you know…kiss a little.”

D’Artagnan was soon grinning from ear-to-ear but then he made an attempt to hide how happy the thought of kissing her made him.

“Okay,” he said with a furious nod. “Would you like to borrow a T-shirt to sleep in?”

Downstairs in the living-room Athos sat by himself with a book. When d’Artagnan didn’t reappear he didn’t think too much about it. He had taught the human a few things about dating and being a gentleman, what happened between d’Artagnan and Constance from now on was really their own business. Anyway Athos couldn’t judge after what had transpired between himself and Ninon on that evening which had started to feel like a lifetime ago.

He sighed, shifted in the chair a little and it slowly dawned on him that he had been staring at the same page in his book for the last five minutes. He knew why. What Aramis had said was on his mind. If they didn’t find Anne then he wouldn’t have to leave them, he could stay with them, as a ghost but stay all the same. Was that what he really wanted? Perhaps then things with Aramis would…no there was Porthos. They couldn’t hurt Porthos. Athos cursed himself for even wanting it. He sighed and put the book down, resting his head on the back of the armchair he decided that perhaps it was best for everyone if he disappeared.

\------------------------------------

“I’m going to quit my job,” Aramis said as his head rested on the warm chest of the werewolf and his fingers gently stroked Porthos’ chest.

“Good,” Porthos responded abruptly, not even attempting to hide his feelings on the matter. “I think that’s the right thing to do.”

“I won’t be-able to pay anything towards the rent until I find something else.”

“Pfft, don’t worry about that. Treville keeps giving me extra hours and d’Artagnan gets paid a little more now.”

Aramis went quiet for a moment, nuzzling his cheek against the soft skin. “That won’t be enough.”

Porthos lifted his head up for a moment to kiss the top of Aramis’ curls. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We’ll be alright. We could always get Athos to break into a bank.”

Aramis snorted with amusement at the repetition of one of his earlier suggestions but then stayed quiet for a while, just enjoying being close to Porthos. Christmas had ended well for them after all. But now that Porthos had brought up the topic of Athos, the werewolf had other things on his mind.

“What were you and Athos doing when I walked in?”

Porthos had a feeling that something was going on between the pair of them although he wasn't sure what. Yet he didn't feel jealous about it, he found himself feeling curious more than anything.

“We were talking,” Aramis finally explained. “About death and deep stuff.”

“Deep stuff?” Porthos queried. Aramis nodded against his chest but didn’t say anything more. Porthos wasn’t sure if he should push the conversation or just leave it. He didn’t want Aramis to think that he was being nosy but he still didn’t really feel like he had been given a proper answer which often seemed to be the case with Aramis.

“The hand-cuffs worked well,” Aramis eventually said, changing the subject which was also something Aramis seemed to do a lot. But Porthos didn't mind, he could tell that Aramis had enjoyed himself and he was really pleased that his idea had worked out.

“Yeah? I had fun too.”

“I'm looking forward to discovering what else we can do when I'm tied-up,” Aramis said cheekily.

Once the Christmas festivities were over and the reality of life was back, Aramis had the task of handing in his notice. Obviously it devastated the spa manager who had the crush on him and Aramis had to sit with her in the cafe for at least an hour reassuring her that it was nothing to do with her, it was that he had decided to take another career path. Then he had to make up a rather elaborate story about his dream of becoming a BMX stunt rider, which she didn't even seem to question.

Whilst sitting in the cafe comforting his boss over the news of his sudden departure, Aramis spotted Rochefort coming into the gym. He really needed to speak to Rochefort so he gave Lucie a big hug, which made her sigh and sink in his arms, then he hurried off to find the bastard.

The bastard was berating one of the gym workers about something but his mood seemed to lighten when he saw the vampire.

“Rene! So good to see you again. Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Yes, thank you,” Aramis said, trying to keep a smile on his face. “Can we talk?”

Rochefort's mood suddenly turned more serious and he nodded. “Follow me,” he said and led Aramis to the male locker rooms. Thankfully, being lunch-time, the room was reasonably quiet with only one old man changing.

“What is it?” Rochefort asked as he put down his sports bag and looked at Aramis, genuinely sounding concerned. Rochefort puzzled the hell out of Aramis but Aramis still needed him on his side so he attempted to brush aside the queasy feeling he always had in his stomach whenever he was around the human.

“I've quit my job,” Aramis told him, announcing the news quite abruptly. “And, because I was still on probation anyway, I just have to work one more week then I'm gone.”

“Oh,” Rochefort said, looking a little upset at the news. He eyed Aramis up and down for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

Aramis had practiced the current conversation he was having with Rochefort in his head a few times and, so far, Rochefort was sticking to the script.

“Yes, it's fine. I just realised that maybe doing something which means I'm that close to humans constantly isn't very good for my...addiction problems.”

Rochefort snorted and nodded his understanding. “I did think that it was odd.” He then turned and bent forward to open up his blue sports bag which was on the bench. “So, what are you going to do?”

Aramis knew that he had to be careful because the last thing he wanted was Rochefort's help in finding a job. “I don't know but that's not why I want to speak to you,” Aramis quickly said to divert the bastard's attention onto something else. “It's the squash club. I won't be-able to come anymore if I'm not a member of the gym.”

“Oh don't worry about that,” Rochefort quickly said. “I'll have a word with the manager. Give me your phone number.” The blond dug into his bag and handed Aramis his phone. Aramis smiled and took it, typing his number into it and, by the time he had finished, Rochefort was topless. Aramis handed the phone back and attempted not to look at the chest Rochefort was clearly puffing out for his benefit.

“I'll call you when I've sorted it out.” Rochefort was suddenly smiling. “I'm glad you still want to be in the squash club. I wasn't sure after the party...”

“Oh,” Aramis gave a little shrug. “I like squash.”

Rochefort chuckled at the comment. “Mmm I'm sure you do,” he said and started undoing the black leather belt on his trousers as he looked at Aramis. When he popped open the button and undid his zip Aramis realised that he was getting a bit of a strip-tease so he decided to leave whilst Rochefort still had his underwear on.

“I'll wait for your call then,” he said and smiled at the bastard. The bastard nodded back.

\----------------------------------

“Thanks for coming with me,” Porthos said to Athos who was walking alongside him as they headed through the streets of Paris towards the Court of Miracles.

“You're welcome,” the ghost mumbled although he had been rather forced into it, not that he minded or even really questioned why Porthos had been quite insistent about the matter. It was rather nice just getting out of the house for a bit. However, he was rather curious as to why Porthos had been acting so nervous around him since Christmas.

“Porthos, if something is the matter then you can just tell me,” he said, eyeing the werewolf up warily.

“The matter?” Porthos said, immediately swallowing and nervously laughing to himself. “Nothing's the matter. I just thought it would be nice if we spent some time together.”

Athos didn't much like the answer but he accepted it for the moment. “Yes, visiting babies is one of my favourite hobbies.”

Porthos punched him teasingly on the arm. “Don't be sarcastic. The baby is very cute, you'll see.”

The baby was indeed 'cute' although Athos was never much one for babies, or children at all for that matter. Still he rather liked the mother. Not that he was attraction to her but, as he listened to her story as she sat in the chair, he admired her greatly for her strength.

“...I honestly thought I'd lose the baby. I'd already lost two, this was our third try. And when Phillipe was killed, well, I was just in pieces. I thought the stress alone would make me lose the child but no, look, he's a fighter.”

She smiled down at the infant in her arms who was indeed quite an energetic little thing for someone who was only a few days old.

“Have you named him?” Porthos asked, smiling fondly. Agnès looked up and nodded.

“Yes, Henry. It was the name Phillipe and I chose before...well...before you know. Would you like to hold him?”

Porthos looked delighted at the suggestion and held his arms out. Agnès carefully placed Henry into Porthos' arms and Porthos cradled the baby's head with his elbow as best he could. Henry looked up at him and stared blankly.

“What will you do now?” Athos asked, it was the first thing he had said since they'd entered the room apart from when he had introduced himself but Athos knew very little about werewolves and found the whole thing fascinating.

“I don't know,” Agnes admitted as she sat back in the old rocking-chair. “Flea says we can stay here for as long as we want so I might do that for a while. She has been very kind.” Agnès smiled and Athos nodded. Flea didn't sound half as bad as Aramis made her out to be. Athos turned to watch Porthos coo over the child, he was talking to him in baby language which Athos always hated. Unless people wanted their children growing up learning nonsense he didn't much understand the point of it.

“Will the baby change during the next full-moon?” he asked Porthos who offered a bit of a shrug.

“I don't know. I've never seen a werewolf baby before.” He looked up at Agnès just in case she wanted to offer her input. “I suppose so...if he is even a werewolf.”

“He is a werewolf,” Agnes insisted. “He must be. He can't have two werewolf parents then come out human.” Although her words sounded confident, she didn't look entirely sure.

“Are there books written about such things?” Athos asked. “I know it's a closed off world and hidden from humans, but surely books have been written about werewolves for your own kind? Surely in one of those books it will talk about this.”

They both gave Athos a bit of a shrug. Neither of them knew. Athos sighed and sat back in the broken chair. There were books about everything...surely? He started to think back to when he had found Queen Anne in the library. He wondered if any of those books in the funeral home had been about supernatural issues. Aramis and vampires seemed to know more about such things than the rest of them. He made a mental note to ask Aramis later, not that Aramis seemed overly interested in helping werewolves but it was worth a try.

Suddenly a head poked around the door. “Porthos, can I talk to you for a moment?” Flea asked. Porthos looked over at her and smiled.

“Yeah, sure. Athos, have the baby for a moment.”

“No,” Athos said sternly. “I do not think that is a good idea.”

“Why not?” Porthos chuckled. He was already getting up and leaning over to hand the child across.

“Because...” Athos was struggling for an excuse. “...I am a ghost.”

Porthos shook his head and tutted. “So? If he's a werewolf then he....oooooh, wait! This will be a good test!”

Flea stepped into the room, her curiosity getting the better of her. “What do you mean?”

Porthos suddenly looked very animated as he stood up straight with the baby still in his arms. “Think about it, Athos is a ghost. We can see him because we're werewolves but, if this little one is human, he won't be-able to see or feel Athos. Athos, hold out your hands.”

Athos still didn't want to but if it helped establish the supernatural nature of the child then he could do it. The baby was carefully placed into his out-stretched hands and the baby stayed in his out-stretched hands.

“Werewolf then,” Porthos noted before turning and walking off.

“Wait!” Athos yelled, holding out the child in front of himself and not knowing what to do with it. “Porthos! Wait! Stop!”

Agnès was chuckling at the poor ghost as Porthos left the room with Flea.

“Hold him closer to your chest,” she advised. “He doesn't have teeth yet so I promise he won't bite.”

“You take it,” Athos insisted which just seemed to amuse Agnès even more and she refused so he did as she suggested and pulled the bunch of moving limbs against his chest. As soon as he did that the baby seemed to settle. He stared down at it, terrified of dropping the thing.

“Look, he likes you,” Agnès said smiling as Henry closed his eyes and started to doze off.

\-----------------

Once Aramis had got home he had a sneaky cigarette out the back in what they called their garden but what was, in reality, a few paving slabs and a dirty barbecue. Aramis wrapped his leather jacket around himself because, despite not often feeling the cold, it was a particularly freezing night. He bounced about on his feet as he took another puff. It didn't much matter if he smoked after all as he was already dead. He had assumed that he was alone until a small voice from somewhere in the darkness made him jump.

“I didn't know you smoked.”

Aramis' head snapped towards the sound and he saw d'Artagnan sitting on the ground, his back against the brick wall of the house. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his legs.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” Aramis said but then immediately remembered his lessons with Athos. “I mean what the heck are you doing out here?”

D'Artagnan, not overly confused about the two similar questions, gave a little shrug. “I don't know.”

“It's bloody freezing, you numpty,” Aramis pointed out before taking another drag of his ever disappearing cigarette. “And yes I do. Don't tell Constance.”

D'Artagnan smiled to himself for a moment before continuing to stare at the garden fence which is what he had been doing for the past half an hour. “I won't,” he promised and then went back to being quiet. Only Aramis was curious and kept on glancing down at the human.

“What _are_ you doing out here?” he asked when he couldn't figure it out for himself.

“Just needed some air,” d'Artagnan admitted and said nothing more.

Aramis felt a little bad for polluting said air so dropped the stub of his cigarette onto the patio and put it out with his boot. “Come back inside,” he suggested but the human shook his head. That spiked Aramis' concern a little and so he went over. He placed his back against the wall and slid down to sit next to the human who was clearly shivering.

“What is it?” Aramis asked, assuming that something must have been on the human's mind otherwise he wouldn't be outside freezing his arse off.

“I'm starting college next week,” d'Artagnan announced, still staring at the fence in the darkness.

“Yup, you might have mentioned that once or twice,” Aramis teased, bumping his shoulder against the human's. “You nervous?”

D'Artagnan shook his head. “No I'm excited. It's just that...well....” Aramis paused and waited to see if the young man would continue and he did. “...I wish my dad was still here, you know? He supported me as I did graphic design but I think he always knew that it wasn't right for me. I think he'd be pleased that I'm getting into catering. He always liked my cooking.”

Aramis looked at d'Artagnan sadly. Aramis' family were long gone but he remembered his father very clearly. He was also very close to his old man in the slightly more formal way that boys were close to their father's back in the days before the war. Still, he sometimes missed his father as well, even after all the decades which had passed.

“He'd be very proud,” Aramis informed d'Artagnan who nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” d'Artagnan agreed although his voice was starting to shake with emotion. “He would. And my mother I think. I don't really remember her.” The squeak at the end made it clear to the vampire that tears were threatening to spill.

“Oh, little D,” Aramis said and lifted up his arm to wrap it around d'Artagnan's shoulders. The human immediately cuddled up against the vampire's side. “We're proud of you too, you know that right? I know we're all shits to you sometimes, especially me, but we are proud of you. You've some such a long way since being the smelly homeless kid we brought a baguette for.”

“I feel like I've failed my dad though,” d'Artagnan admitted through the tears which were now spilling from his eyes. “All this time has gone and his killer is still out there. And sometimes now, sometimes I forget about that and I shouldn't forget.”

“Your dad would _want_ you to forget though. Your dad would be happy that you're going to college and you've got a girlfriend and all of those good things.”

If d'Artagnan agreed with Aramis or not the vampire didn't know as the human stayed quiet apart from the occasional sniff. Aramis found himself in a bit of dilemma. They had agreed not to tell d'Artagnan about Rochefort but, perhaps if d'Artagnan knew....no, d'Artagnan was moving on. It was that which Aramis should be encouraging. Aramis was just racking his brain for something helpful to say when the human asked a question which rather knocked Aramis for six.

“Why isn't my dad a ghost?”

Aramis couldn't answer straight away because he had to give it some thought. The truth was that he had no-idea so decided to just be honest. “I don't know. I don't understand how the ghost world works, not properly anyway. Not many people become ghosts, it's quite unusual. But, to be honest, you wouldn't want that for your dad. Being a ghost is extremely frustrating. Athos copes remarkably well because he's a grumpy loner but other people actually go a bit insane when they're a ghost. Most ghosts I've met are a few sandwiches short of a picnic.”

D'Artagnan finally laughed quietly then he sniffed and promptly wiped his runny nose on the sleeve of his jumper, which Aramis tried his best to ignore. “I don't want Athos to leave.”

“No,” Aramis replied honestly. “Neither do I.” It was then that Aramis' pocket began to vibrate and Aramis used his free arm to dig his phone out. He looked at it, it was a text message from a number he didn't recongise. When he opened it up it read ' _Hi, I brought you a year's gym membership, pick up your card when you're next in. See you at the club soon. Rochefort_.' Aramis grinned, the bastard was starting to grow on him. He pulled his arm away from d'Artagnan for a moment to quickly type back ' _Brill! Thank u! C you soon. Aramis_ '

\---------------------------------

On the way back from the Court of Miracle's Porthos strolled alongside Athos desperately trying to figure out a way to bring up the conversation he wanted to have with him. Only he wasn't sure how to do it so decided to start with general chit-chat instead. Not that Athos was ever one for small talk but Porthos had to try.

“So, do you like babies now?”

“No,” was Athos' prompt answer. The milk puke stain on his jumper probably had something to do with that.

“Well, still, I appreciate you coming.”

“You're welcome,” Athos said and that was the end of that conversation. Porthos sighed and decided there was nothing else for it, he'd just come out and say something.

“Is something going on between you and Aramis?” he asked before he had the chance to see sense and change his mind.

That got the ghost's attention and he stood still in his tracks, right in the middle of the street. The street was dead, thankfully, as it was late and dark, not that anyone could see Athos anyway but perhaps some might think it was strange that Porthos was talking to himself.

“Why do you ask?”

Porthos could tell by the look on the ghost's face that something _was_ going on so he had to probe it further. “I just...have this feeling,” he said, trying not to sound angry or accusing. The truth was he didn't feel either, he just needed to know.

“I can assure you that nothing has happened between myself and Aramis since you two got together and nothing will.”

It was a curious statement and one which got Porthos thinking because, whilst he fully believed Athos as Athos was a man of both integrity and honour, his choice of words was interesting. Because they seemed to imply that nothing happened wasn't quite the same as Athos not wanting things to happen.

“I'm not mad,” Porthos stepped forward to reassure the ghost. He wanted Athos to see from the expression on his face that he wasn't mad even though he still had no-idea why. He was a werewolf, being possessive and jealous were both common traits in his kind. So why wasn't he jealous of Athos? “Did something happened before we got together then?”

Athos studied the werewolf for a moment just to make absolutely sure that he wasn't angry but, one thing about Porthos was that he was awful at hiding his feelings, it was always very evident on his face. So Athos knew that he wasn't lying and decided that he shouldn't lie either. Porthos deserved the truth.

“We kissed once or twice. Usually when Aramis was just bored or in need of some attention.”

“Do you like him?” Porthos asked. He didn't care if they had kissed, kissing was quite meaningless unless there were emotions behind it. Athos' mouth opened at the question and hung open for quite a while. Eventually he slowly closed it and his gaze left Porthos to stare at something intensely on the pavement. So Porthos stepped forward again, now getting closer to the ghost to try and get his attention back. “I'm really not upset, I promise. I'm just curious.”

Athos didn't look up. In fact Athos just stayed frozen. In fact Athos did very little until Porthos realised that he could see the street lamp through Athos. The ghost was fading again like he had in his room a few weeks before.

“Oh no you bloody don't,” Porthos said and reached out, gripping Athos' arm. He could still just about feel it so he gave it a hard squeeze. “Don't you bloody fade again. Athos, I'm not angry. Just be honest with me.”

“I do not know how I feel towards Aramis,” the ghost admitted as he continued to stare at the ground. “I don't know,” he finally admitted to the pavement. “It's silly. I shouldn't feel anything. I'm dead and he's with you.”

\-----------------------------

“Hey, you do realise we've been sitting out here in the freezing garden hugging for ages and you've not tried to kiss me?”

“Oh,” d'Artagnan's head suddenly shot up from Aramis' shoulder and he smiled. “You're right! I'm cured!”

Aramis nodded at him. “You don't fancy me at all anymore?”

“Nope,” d'Artagnan said, sounding rather certain about the fact.

“Not in the slightest?” Aramis asked, a frown forming slowly on his face.

“Nope, don't think so.”

Aramis was really frowning then which made d'Artagnan laugh as he wiggled out of the vampire's embrace. “Sorry, Aramis. I've moved on.”

“How dare you! I'll just have to drink your blood again.”

The suggestion, which d'Artagnan assumed was probably meant as a joke, frightened him all the same and he suddenly scrambled to get back up onto his feet. He quickly rubbed his hands against his arse which had gone numb after sitting down on the cold ground for so long. “You're right, it is cold out here,” the human said before turning and quickly disappearing back into the house which left the vampire chuckling. His ears soon picked up on the fact d'Artagnan was talking to someone so Aramis jumped up as well and followed the human into the house. He grinned when he saw Porthos and Athos in the hallway, Porthos was removing his coat and hanging it up on one of the hooks.

“How was the wolf pup?” Aramis asked, not really caring but deciding that he should pretend to care in order to make everyone happy. Only neither of them answered, they both stared at Aramis for a moment before Athos diverted his gaze and hurried off into the living-room and Porthos sighed deeply.

“Yeah good, healthy,” he said but there was something in his face telling Aramis that things weren't good. Aramis racked his brain to try and remember if he had done something wrong but, no, he had been honest with Porthos recently. Porthos knew all about the squash club business.

“What's wrong”? Aramis asked, now no longer interested in the stupid baby.

“Nothing,” Porthos said very quickly and immediately moved forward with his arms out, engulfing Aramis in a huge hug and a happy smile. “Nothing, love. Everything is going to be just fine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Those that notice the UH-OH moment get a gold star]


	29. You're quite famous

Aramis went down to the gym the following week to attend the first squash club meeting since Christmas and did his best to avoid the spa manager Lucie in fear of making her cry again. He was just picking up his new gym membership card from the front desk when someone began rather incessantly tooting their car horn outside. Aramis ignored it at first until the lad behind the reception desk nodded at the glass front door.

“I think the bastard is trying to get your attention,” he said and Aramis turned to discover that the guy was right. Rochefort was outside in a rather obnoxiously coloured sports car. Aramis wasn't much into bright yellow himself but the car looked nice so curiosity got the better of him and he went outside. Rochefort immediately wound down the electric window as Aramis strolled around the car to admire the machine. It was a Lexus and Aramis was pretty impressed. He eventually stopped at the open window.

“Fancy a ride?” Rochefort asked and Aramis really really did.

“How on earth can you afford this thing?” Aramis asked as he walked around to the passenger side and slid onto the black leather seat.

“I'm just borrowing it,” Rochefort admitted and waited for Aramis to buckle up before doing quite an impressive wheel-spin just to show off. As they shot out of the car-park Aramis admired the interior. He was more of a motorbike fan really but he did have a soft spot for fancy cars as well.

“Who are you borrowing it from?” he asked, reaching out to stroke the dashboard because it felt like an appropriate thing to do as the engine purred.

“A friend, there are a few perks to my job.”

Aramis turned to look at Rochefort as he tried to figure the man out. He still found himself unable to. The man was a bastard but, once in a while, he actually seemed rather nice. Perhaps that's why the thought of Rochefort actually having a friend wasn't completely alien.

“There seem to be a lot of perks to your job,” Aramis pointed out. “A big house, money. I mean...what is your job, Rochefort? Apart from hosting feeding parties and running squash clubs?”

The question actually made Rochefort laugh. Aramis wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Rochefort laugh properly before. There was something a little unnerving about it, ominous perhaps. Like Rochefort was laughing at his own private joke and not at the comment Aramis had just made. “I told you. I'm the human go-between.”

“Yes I know that,” Aramis responded, sensing another opportunity to probe a little further. “But why do vampire's need the men in the squash club?”

“Finances, power,” Rochefort explained, seemingly having no problem in being open with Aramis on the matter. “Men and women pay a hefty fee to go to the feeding parties. You only got in for free because you're a vampire. And the humans are lawyers, bankers and generally very useful people.”

“Ah,” Aramis was starting to understand a little better. “So you keep them sweet by introducing them to a dark world of supernatural excitement and they, in turn, do you favours?”

Rochefort nodded.

“But not you?” Aramis asked. He didn't want to damage Rochefort's ego but it was ever so tempting. “The vampire you work for? The one that controls you?”

“He doesn't control me!” Rochefort suddenly snapped and his fingers gripped onto the steering-wheel a little tighter. His foot also pressed down a little harder on the accelerator and suddenly the speed limit seemed to be forgotten. Still, if half of the lawyers in the city were in the squash club... “He doesn't control me,” Rochefort repeated, his time sounding calmer. “I work with him, not for him.”

“Doesn't look that way to me,” Aramis teased but he turned to look out of the window as he said it because he knew it would wind Rochefort up. It did, Rochefort suddenly swung off the road and went down a side-alley. Aramis reached out to grip onto the car-door, not entirely convinced that the car was even going to fit down the tiny side-street. But the car did although Rochefort went round a corner so fast that he almost clipped the side of the building.

“I'm sorry,” Aramis quickly said, not much fancying being stuck inside a smashed-up car. Rochefort, however, didn't react. His eyes were focused on the road as he continued to wind his way around the side-streets and eventually flew into a car-park. The multi-story car-park was a quiet one because it was too far out of the city centre and most of the locals thought that it charged too much. Rochefort span around the ramps, the front of the car hitting the ground on a couple of occasions. Aramis started feeling fearful, having no-idea where Rochefort was taking him and why they were in the car-park.

“Rochefort?” he asked but the human continued to ignore the vampire until they reached the very top level of the car-park on the roof which was completely empty. Rochefort sped up and raced across the parking spaces, only coming to a screeching halt inches from the concrete wall at the end. Aramis felt nervous but attempted not to show it. Although he did want to get out of the car.

“I didn't mean to upset you,” Aramis said, the fingers of his right hand tapping his leg nervously, privately inching them closer to the door-handle.

“What upsets me is the fact you haven't even been honest with me,” Rochefort said sternly, staring out of the window-screen in front of him, his fingers still gripping tightly onto the wheel even though he had stopped driving. “That upsets me,” he added, sounding absolutely serious about the matter. Aramis felt confused. He had certainly just been a little unkind to the bastard but he didn't recall lying to him.

“What?”

Rochefort slowly turned to look directly at Aramis, anger evident in his eyes.

“Why weren't you honest with me...Aramis?”

He knew his real name.

“Fuck,” Aramis suddenly gasped. “Fuck.” He reached for the door-handle and pulled on it but the door wouldn't open; it was locked. Still Aramis wiggled at the handle frantically. “Fuck,” he repeated and didn't even look at Rochefort. He let go of the handle to look around the car, trying to figure out how Rochefort had locked it. He could fight Rochefort off if he needed to, he was sure of it. Rochefort was only human but what if Rochefort had a weapon?

He finally turned to look at the blond. “Let me out,” he demanded.

Rochefort appeared to be confused. “I'm not going to hurt you. Why are you panicking?”

Aramis had no-idea if the man was being honest or not but he didn't much want to stay to find out.

“Let me out!” He demanded and tried the door again, shaking the handle furiously until it almost came off in his hand. The window...he could open the window and climb out...

“Aramis, did you think I wouldn't find out?” Rochefort asked, sounding very calm. “I would have done eventually. I've heard of you, of course I have. You do realise that I work with Richelieu?”

Aramis paused and stopped his attempt to escape. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. This was it, this was his chance.,Rochefort was opening up to him. Aramis thought about Athos and d'Artagnan which caused him to slowly re-opened his eyes although he found himself unable to look at the human.

“I...I thought you probably did,” Aramis admitted. There was silence in the car for a moment before Rochefort continued.

“Do you realise that they all think you're dead? They believe that you were killed in the warehouse massacre alongside all of the other vampires.”

Aramis nodded slowly, he wanted to give himself as much time as possible to think of what to say; to make sure that he wouldn't mess up and say the wrong thing.

“I know, I was there. I managed to escape.”

He could see Rochefort nodding out of the corner of his eye and finally turned to look at the human trying to gage what was going on. Rochefort didn't appear to be annoyed anymore. He seemed calm and in control once again.

“I can see that,” Rochefort said. “Anne was quite upset but not as upset as Louis of course. He was furious. A lot of the vampire's that were killed were from the Paris coven. Richelieu eventually managed to calm him down, he said that they needed a more sophisticated plan than just going in all fangs blazing.”

Aramis was starting to feel confused. Why would Rochefort tell him all of this stuff? Did Rochefort suspect that Aramis was involved and was trying to catch him out? Aramis realised that he needed to be very careful and find out as much information as he could whilst Rochefort was blurting things out.

“I'm surprised they haven't attacked the werewolves already,” Aramis said, trying to sound rather detached from the whole thing even though he suddenly felt a weight of guilt about the fact Anne thought he was dead. Aramis hadn't considered that before. He wondered if Anne was in fact more upset with Louis than the werewolves.

Rochefort started staring at Aramis, like he was studying his reaction. Aramis felt nervous but he tried desperately to hide it.

“You were once in the Paris coven?” Rochefort asked, although it wasn't really a question, he clearly already knew. “For many years. You worked your way up the ranks and became Louis' favourite. But your attention was really on the Queen, wasn't it? Everyone suspected but Louis was too busy thinking the sun shone out of your arse to notice. But then rumours really started to fly around and Louis became suspicious. You left the coven before anything was proven. You were the Lancelot to his Arthur. Am I getting this right?”

There was no point in Aramis lying about it; everything Rochefort had just said was common knowledge amongst the vampire's. “You seem to know a lot about me,” Aramis pointed out, hoping that Rochefort hadn't been too blatant about asking other vampires who he was.

“Well you're quite famous, Aramis. Some of the stories about you...they're really quite impressive.”

Aramis turned away from Rochefort again and lowered his gaze to his lap. He hated the fact Rochefort knew the stories. He hated the fact the stories even existed.

“I don't quite understand how you went from that to...well...this.” Rochefort paused for a moment as if he was waiting for Aramis to react. When Aramis didn't Rochefort continued. “A tee-total vampire working in a spa. It's an intriguing change of circumstances for you.”

“I don't know what you want me to say,” Aramis admitted after another silence.

“What do you want from me?” Rochefort suddenly asked which made Aramis shoot his head up. It hadn't occurred to him that Rochefort would assume that Aramis had known all about his connections from the start.

“I...nothing. I mean, not from you. I mean...well I do now...” Aramis debated just coming out and saying it. He desperately tried to come up with reasons as to why it wasn't a good idea but was struggling to find any. This was it; this was his chance. This was his moment to find Milady and help Athos and d'Artagnan. “I'm looking for Milady.”

The sudden burst of honesty appeared to shock Rochefort. He looked confused and recoiled in his seat away from Aramis a little. Then he turned away and stared at the dashboard, his eyes darting around for a while before he finally focused back on Aramis.

“Why are you looking for her?”

“I can't tell you,” Aramis blurted out. It was one thing getting himself into trouble, there was no-way he was telling Rochefort about Athos, d'Artagnan or any of the others. Rochefort seemed to accept that as an answer and nodded slowly.

“Well I know how to find her.”

Aramis gasped, this was it, this was what they had all been trying to do over the past few months. Finally someone knew where Milady was. They could finally find her. Aramis was close to smiling when Rochefort's expression slowly changed to something a little more foreboding, his lip curling up into a smirk.

“And I'll tell you...for a price.”

\------------------------------

Aramis burst into the house in a way which would have perhaps been dramatic if it had been anyone else but Aramis was always dramatic so the noisy entrance was mostly ignored by the only resident in the house, Athos. Athos had been sitting and thinking and wondering, something which he had been doing an awful lot of since his conversation with Porthos. When Aramis came around the doorway Athos did at least look up.

“Did you win this time?”

“Win what?” Aramis immediately asked, sounding both confused and frustrated all at the same time.

“The squash game,” Athos explained, immediately picking up on the fact something was off with the vampire. “I thought that's what you were....”

“Where's Porthos?” Aramis interrupted.

“At work. So is d'Artangnan. It's only me I'm afraid.”

Aramis appeared to study Athos for a while before sighing and disappearing off up the stairs. Athos didn't think much more of it; Aramis and his emotions were often a puzzlement to him.

Aramis eventually came back down an hour later with his black boots still on. When he sat down on the sofa he immediately put his feet up onto the coffee table which Athos knew would make Constance very mad if she were there. But Athos wasn't Constance and Aramis looked pissed off about something so Athos remained quiet as Aramis turned the television on and Athos, not for the first time, wished that he was better at dealing with such things.

It was only when Aramis still hadn't spoken for a whole thirty minutes, which was very unlike Aramis, that it became so frightening Athos decided he _had_ to say something. So he put his book down and looked over at the vampire.

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“No,” Aramis said at first but then he cringed as if silently telling himself off and corrected his short statement. “Yes.”

Athos paused for a moment, waiting to see if anything else was going to be offered, when it wasn't he decided to go for another question.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” Aramis said so Athos waited for the....”Yes.”

Aramis sighed and finally his attention left the television screen to look over at the ghost. “Rochefort does know your wife.”

Athos immediately sat up straight. He'd been looking for Anne for years, this was the closest he had ever been to finding her.

“He..he does? How did you find out?”

“We were just talking,” Aramis admitted, leaving out some of the fine detail as always. “He told me about Richelieu and it just seemed like the right time to ask.”

“So...you just came out and asked him?” Athos asked, feeling concerned. Not that he didn't trust Aramis to be discreet but he didn't much like the sound of Rochefort let alone trust the man.

“Yes, sort of. He knows her, not well but he knows her. He said that he could arrange a meeting with her.”

Athos didn't know what to say. He was so close now that it felt ridiculously real and terrifying. He had wanted to find Anne for so long but now he even sure what he would do if he did. He couldn't kill her the first time around, could he really do it the second? He found himself sitting up in his seat and leaning forward to stare at Aramis.

“He'd do that? For us?”

Aramis nodded, “For me. But it won't be like tomorrow. So please keep being patient, okay?” Aramis looked concerned about the ghost's reaction but all Athos did was nod.

“Aramis, this is the closest I've come to finding her since she began murdering those people years ago. I can be patient for a little while long. So she's in France?”

“Yes. Or at least I think so. She works with Richelieu just like Rochefort.”

Athos found himself standing up without even realising he was doing it. Then he walked over to the sofa and sat down beside Aramis. He had so many questions that he had to hold himself back from bombarding Aramis with them.

“And why would Rochefort help us find her? Does he know about me?”

Aramis shook his head frantically. “I haven't mentioned you or d'Artagnan. I don't think he much cares why I'm looking for her. I don't think he likes her very much or at least that's the impression I get. I don't think he likes Richelieu either. He's just a human obsessed with vampire's.”

“Can we trust him?”

Aramis gave an honest shrug. “I don't know but this is the best we've got. And I believe him, even if I don't trust him.”

Athos reached out and gave Aramis' arm a squeeze then he looked away trying to think it all through. If Rochefort set up a meeting then he could meet Anne in private. She'd be so shocked to even see him that he'd have the advantage. But then what would he do? Did he really have it in him to kill her?

Aramis interrupted his thoughts. “You are happy, right? This is what you want, isn't it?”

Athos turned to look at the vampire and noticed the almost pained expression on the man's face. Athos figured that he needed some reassurance.

“Yes, yes this is what I want,” he said, very clearly. Whatever doubts he had in his mind he didn't want Aramis to doubt anything. He wanted Aramis to use Rochefort and arrange the meeting. The response seemed to please Aramis who suddenly began smiling.

“Then I'll make it happen,” Aramis promised and lowered his head slowly to rest on Athos' shoulder. The action made Athos tingle for a moment and it reminded him of the conversation he'd had with Porthos.

_After an lingering silence between the pair of them Porthos finally said something._

“ _So you do have feelings for him? I should be feeling mad about this.”_

_Athos finally raised his head and looked at the werewolf. “Why don't you feel mad?” he asked, fully expecting the werewolf to be in full on werewolf berserker mode by now. Not that he had ever seen Porthos act that way but he did wonder if it was inside him somewhere._

“ _I don't know,” Porthos admitted. “Because...it's you.”_

_Athos felt puzzled by the statement but then felt that he understood. “And I'm dead? So, therefore, I'm not a threat?”_

“ _No...fuck...” Porthos lifted his arms up and ran his fingers through his hair like he was frustrated at himself but he wasn't entirely sure what he was frustrated about. “I guess I always knew. I mean Aramis has fancied you since the moment he met you. So why would this be a shock to me? And I know how easy it is to feel drawn to him. Why would I be shocked that you're drawn to him?”_

“ _Because...he's with you?” Athos offered up. “So, therefore, it's not right.”_

_Porthos lowered his hands and shook his head. “It's only not right if you're both sleeping together behind my back or have been doing things purposely to deceive me. And you haven't...right?”_

_Athos could tell by the little question on the end that Porthos wasn't a hundred per cent sure even if he sounded fairly certain that he could trust them. Athos attempted to reassure him immediately. “I can assure you that we have never slept together. I mean we have slept together on the couch but I can promise you that clothing always remained on and neither of us have even spoken about our feelings for each other.”_

“ _I know,” Porthos said. “I know that because I trust you both. It's weird. I love Aramis more than anything in the world but the thought of you two also being close...I don't...” Porthos paused and sighed deeply as he looked out at some of the parked cars. “...it doesn't bother me. Is that weird?”_

“ _I'm probably the wrong person to ask,” Athos pointed out._

“ _Yeah, true. But I can't blame you both for your feelings. And I know this doesn't change how much Aramis loves me. I feel like I should be hating you for this but...I really don't. I don't understand why I don't. If you were d'Artagnan or someone else I'd be threatening to rip your arms off. But it's you and it's like there's...something about you that I...oh I don't know.”_

_Athos just stood there a little lost. He didn't understand it either. In some ways they were in the same boat, it was just that Porthos was in a nicer boat than Athos' lonely one._

“ _Look...” Porthos came closer and appeared to attempt to lower himself down to Athos' height a little as to not appear threatening. “I love Aramis but I'm also not going to control him. If he has feelings for you as well...well that's how it is. He likes both of us. I'll just have to accept that.”_

“ _Porthos, nothing is going to happen. I will not allow anything to happen.”_

“ _Athos, hey...” Suddenly Porthos reached out and cupped Athos' chin, lifting his face up to hold it steady and make sure that Athos couldn't turn away. “I just appreciate you being honest with me about it. Just keep being honest and it'll be cool, okay?”_

_Athos stepped back and pulled his chin away. That didn't seem right at all. Porthos was giving him permission to have feelings for his boyfriend? No, that didn't seem right at all. Athos couldn't understand it._

“And does Rochefort want anything in return for his help?” Athos asked the vampire.

“No,” Aramis lied.

 


	30. I've done something really stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Made by Isalen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Trigger warning - There's the aftermath of domestic violence in this chapter. Similar to what happened in the show but I haven't written about the actual event.]

Aramis was aware that, in many ways, it was a terrible idea. In fact in most ways it was a terrible idea but he also knew that he would have to do it in order to arrange the meeting with Milady. So Aramis stood there in Rochefort's bedroom, eyes darting about nervously as he took in the rather unusual interior design; it was dark, gothic and ridiculously strange. The man who owned the bedroom was acting like all of his birthday's and Christmases had come at once. He was moving around, putting more black and red cushions onto the bed and lighting candles to create an even more eerie ambiance which Aramis felt was rather unnecessarily.

Rochefort's excitement only increased Aramis' level of uncertainty.

“So...” Aramis began, trying to get the attention of the man who was still scurrying around. “How do I know for sure that you've arranged this meeting with Milady and how do I know that she'll turn up?”

Rochefort, who had a one of his smirks on his face, continued to needlessly rearrange the pile of cushions on the bed as he spoke. “I can't _guarantee_ she'll turn up but Richelieu believes I'm having difficulties with someone trying to blackmail me and he's sending her to help me out. I can promise you that much. Sunday at the Musée d'Orsay. 5'o'clock.”

Aramis nodded and hoped to god that Rochefort was being honest because, what he was about to do, he'd never be-able to take back.

Once Rochefort finally appeared to be satisfied that his four-poster bed was ready for what was about to happen, he stood at the side of it and stared at Aramis. “So, can we begin?”

Aramis couldn't take his eyes off the bed for a while, just knowing what was about to happen on it was enough to make his stomach churn with nerves. “Yes, but we need to talk about the rules first.”

\---------------------------------

“I just had the weirdest text from Constance,” d'Artagnan told Athos as he stared down at his phone. Athos, who also cared about Constance, looked over.

“What did it say?”

D'Artagnan went to the sofa and perched himself down on the edge of it. He re-read the text before responding to the question. “She basically said that her brother is back from India so she won't be-able to see me for a while. I don't get it, why does her brother coming back mean she can't see me?”

Athos shrugged a little. “I'm afraid I do not know but there has always been something which...” Athos paused for a moment to contemplate his thoughts on the matter before sharing them. “...I have always felt like there is something she has been keeping from us.”

“Yeah,” d'Artagnan said with a sigh as he fell back against the sofa with his legs wide open. “I know what you mean. The fact she disappears off sometimes and we don't see her for a while then she just reappears again.”

“Indeed,” Athos agreed and watched as the human suddenly sat himself upright again.

“I'm going to go and see her. Check she's okay.”

Athos couldn't offer any reason as to why the human shouldn't so he just nodded. “Would you like company?” he asked and actually surprised himself a little by the offer he had just made.

D'Artagnan appeared as shocked as Athos did but then thought about it and shook his head. “Nah, I'll be alright. Thanks though.”

So d'Artagnan went out and took the bus all the way to Constance's house. He hadn't been there since he'd picked her up for her first date but he remembered exactly where it was. His first date with Constance was something he was quite certain that he'd never forget.

Only, when he knocked on the blue door, he came face-to-face with a man he'd never met before. The man didn't even offer him a greeting but just stared at d'Artagnan like the lad was already a nuisance.

“Umm...” d'Artagnan felt a little unnerved but managed to find his voice eventually. “I'm here to see Constance.”

“And who are you?” The man with the curly moustache asked in a very unfriendly manner.

“I'm d'Artagnan. I'm her...I'm a friend of hers.” D'Artagnan had no-idea if she had told her family about having a boyfriend so he decided not to do that on her behalf. The man just studied d'Artagnan with his eyes and still didn't appear very impressed by the uninvited guest at his door.

“She isn't here,” he said and promptly slammed the door right in d'Artagnan's face.

D'Artagnan stood there confused and stepped back to look up at the house. He was starting to develop a strange feeling and he had a sense that he shouldn't leave but what could he do with the door slammed in his face? So he stepped back down the steps and continued to stare up at the windows when he saw a white curtain move and a brief glimpse of Constance appeared from behind the curtain before it quickly closed and she was gone again. Suddenly things didn't feel right at all. D'Artagnan wanted to break into the house to make sure she was okay but he knew that he could get in serious trouble for doing such things. What he needed was a ghost.

\-------------------------

As Aramis moved closer to the bed the only thought in his head was 'I hope Porthos forgives me if he ever finds out'. Aramis had privately gone through the implications and consequences of what he was about to do and what he would have to do afterwards to hide it all from Porthos. He hated everything about it and the fact he'd have to lie to Porthos was the absolute worst part but it had to be done, for Athos and d'Artagnan, it had to be done.

“I understand,” Rochefore was insisting, growing impatient the longer the conversation went on. “I know how it works. You don't need to tell me what I already know.”

“This is going to change...everything for you,” Aramis pointed out, stepping forward again towards the man who was sitting on the bed. “Everything and Richelieu will be furious. You have thought about that, haven't you?”

“Of course I've thought about it,” Rochefort hissed. “I'm going to say I was attacked by a vampire. I spend enough time around them, it's a miracle it hasn't actually happened. He won't know the truth. I won't tell him about you. I'll join the Paris coven and work for King Louis himself. Then Richelieu won't be-able to order me around anymore.”

Aramis sighed and briefly wondered for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing but his mind kept on going back to the others and how desperate both Athos and d'Artagnan were to get justice and revenge. Athos needed to confront Milady. He would never pass to the other side unless he did so. This was their best chance.

“But I'll be your master, you understand that as well?” Aramis reminded the human. “There will always be a connection between us and, in many ways, you'll always belong to me.”

Rochefort gave one nod and smirked again in a way which made Aramis shiver. Clearly the idea of belonging to Aramis excited the human a little, Aramis decided that he didn't want to think about it too much. He had coped just fine with his master barely being a part of his life, he was sure Rochefort could do the same. He thought about Marsac and allowed himself a brief moment to grieve again before Rochefort brought him out of his unhappy memories.

“Can we get on with it? I've been wanting this for so long and we have a deal. I've organised the meeting with Milady, now you need to uphold your end of the bargain.”

Aramis moved closer and knelt down onto the mattress next to Rochefort which caused the human to twist and move back to face him.

“Rochefort, promise me that you won't go round slaughtering hundreds of people?”

Rochefort sat there quietly for a moment until he began to smirk again. Aramis rolled his eyes and was actually about to change his mind about the whole thing before Rochefort spoke up.

“I know the rules. I know that vampires have to hide their existence from humans so, therefore, they need to control themselves and be careful.”

“Yes,” Aramis said, reaching down to open up Rochefort's shirt a little more in order to expose more skin. “And never get yourself arrested. As soon as you don't show up in a mug shot we'll be exposed. Some cops are vampires but we can't always rely on them to always sort everything out.”

“I know,” Rochefort snapped, getting quick-tempered. He tiled his head to the side a little to allow Aramis to have access to his neck. “Just do it. I know all about the vampire world and rules. I'm ready so do hurry up, there's a good lad.”

Aramis looked down and watched a vein on Rochefort's neck pumping blood up into his head. He could hear the thrumming of the warm liquid rushing through it. He licked his lips knowing full well how, despite everything, Rochefort was going to taste quite delightful...

\---------------------------

It was too long later before d'Artagnan returned to the house with Athos. Athos had agreed to come immediately after he had heard what had happened. They were both standing on the street looking at the house over the brushes which lined the small garden at the front.

“You don't think that's her husband, do you?” d'Artagnan quietly asked. Athos turned to him and gave him a 'look' which promptly helped d'Artagnan realise how silly he was being.

“Just wait out here. I'll go and make sure she is well.”

Athos walked up the garden path, up the steps and then straight through the front door. He felt a little dizzy on the other side as he found himself in the hallway but quickly began to gathered his senses. There was a TV on loudly that it disorientated him for a moment but it wasn't long before he felt steady enough to explore.

The house was in pristine condition and the furniture looked expensive. No-one was in the kitchen, dining-room or main lounge area where the large plasma screen television was making all of the noise. So Athos walked back out into the hallway which was where he almost bumped right into a human. Except he didn't bump into him, gasping Athos closed his eyes as the man passed straight though him. Athos immediately shivered and reached out to grab onto the wall. He hated that feeling.

“Constance!” The man appeared to be yelling up the stairs as he walked past Athos and into the lounge. “I expect my dinner to be ready in an hour!” That was all he said before he sat down on the chair. Athos' attention then immediately turned to the stairs right in front of him and he slowly went up them. Even though he was a ghost and the man could clearly not see him, Athos still felt like he was doing something highly illegal and immoral but, still, he wanted to check that Constance was okay as much as the worried human outside did.

Once Athos was on the landing he began looking around the rooms. “Constance?” he whispered, trying to figure out where she was. He didn't get a response and it was only when he phased through one of the last doors on the corridor that he found her. Constance was sitting on the edge of a bed, sewing a button onto a man's shirt. She didn't even look up when Athos came into the room but Athos spotted something straight away even though there was some sort of powder attempting to hide it; she had a large black and purple mark on her cheekbone and a split lip.

“Constance,” he whispered, feeling both shocked and appalled. Her head immediately shot up and she looked at Athos who was standing by the door. She gasped and accidentally dropped the shirt onto the floor.

“Athos! What are you doing here?”

“Who is he?” Athos demanded, stepping closer to her. “Who is that man downstairs?” All of a sudden he wasn't so sure himself; perhaps it was her husband.

She hung her head down in what appeared to be shame and muttered, “My brother.”

“And he did this to you?” Athos asked, relieved that she wasn't married at least and pointed to her face. “He hit you, didn't he?”

Constance lifted her head back up and looked worried. “Please don't tell the others,” she pleaded, reaching her arm out to Athos. “He looks after me and works very hard. He just sometimes gets a little stressed and loses his temper.”

Athos stood there and tried to control himself in front of Constance even though he was seeing red. “Grab some clothes and go outside. D'Artagnan is waiting for you.”

“Athos, please don't do anything...” Constance begged but he ignored her and immediately disappeared back through the door. He knew he had to get to the man fast before Constance tried to stop him. But, as he went back down the stairs, Constance didn't seem to be following.

Athos went into the lounge and stood there. Constance's brother obviously couldn't see him and he suddenly wished, not for the first time, that he wasn't a ghost. Still there was a few things he could do; he could touch objects if he concentrated. He went over to the fire-place and picked up a glass bowl full of rusty brown potpourri. He held the glass in his hand, lifted up his arm then threw it at the wall just above the man's skull. The man jumped out of his skin as the glass smashed above his head, sending the flower petals raining down over him.

“What the heck?!” he yelled as he stood up, brushing the petals off. Athos turned and picked up a rather ugly looking bronze carving of a horse and threw that as well. Not to hurt Constance's brother but just to miss and hit the wall behind him. It made the man jump as he watched it smack against the plaster and then he turned to the fire-place looking confused.

“Constance!” he began to scream. Athos walked over to the flower vase on the table beside the sofa. Constance's brother gasped in horror as he saw the vase floating around in mid-air, he began backing up towards the doorway so Athos threw that as well to smash it against the door-frame. The vase shattered and shards of china hit the man in the arm. He looked terrified as he ran out of the room screaming Constance's name. Athos followed him and got closer. In the hallway he picked up a painting on the wall and dropped it onto the man's head. The glass cracked and the painting fell to the carpet. The human reached up to place his arm over his scalp to protect himself, his eyes spinning around frantically trying to figure out what was happening. Athos picked up another picture, this time swinging it and hitting the man in the shoulder. He gasped and then grabbed his arm before scrambling up the stairs, still screaming for his sister.

Athos knew that he had to stop the man from reaching her so he followed him up the stairs and, as soon as Constance's brother was running past an open door, Athos shoved him into it. The man flew inside the room and fell in a heap onto the floor. Then Athos swung the door shut and held onto the handle tightly. He could hear the man getting up and trying to handle. He shook it a little and continued to yell for Constance. Athos concentrated extra hard and held on tightly until the man eventually gave up with the door. So Athos let go and went down the hallway to find Constance again. He phased through the door and found Constance packing a bag with tears steaming down her face. As soon as she spotted Athos in the room she looked up at him.

“You didn't hurt him, did you?”

Athos shook his head. He felt exhausted after everything he had just done but he had to stay strong for her. “I just scared him. Come live with us, Constance. You don't have to put up with it.”

“I do,” she explained, even though she was moving to grab more dresses out of her wardrobe. “He's my brother. He's the only family I have.”

“He hits you and no-one should ever do that, no-one,” Athos pointed out, even though he probably didn't have to. Constance suddenly dropped the dresses in her hands, sank to the floor and cried. Athos automatically raced over, fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her. She slowly leaned into his chilly embrace.

\------------------------------------

Aramis sat topless beside Rochefort's unconscious body and wiped the blood off his own chin with the back of his hand. Then he looked down at his arm where his own bite marks were still visible. Rochefort had tasted wonderful and Aramis was struggling to control the surge of post-feeding delight which was currently bubbling up inside his body. The traumatic memories of being tied up to the 'chair' at home partly did the trick but he knew that no mere memories were going to stop the craving for more blood which would kick in soon enough. What had he done?

His gaze moved from his own arm down to Rochefort who was currently lying on his stomach looking pale with two deep holes in his neck and blood on his lips. Soon he would wake up feeling disorientated, confused and lusting after blood. Fuck, what HAD he done?

Aramis hit himself on the side of the head. It was a crazy, crazy thing to do. He should just kill Rochefort and end it right here and now but...no, no he couldn't. He couldn't kill anyone else, he couldn't add to the long list of guilt which already hung over him like a heavy grey cloud threatening to rain. Anyway, far more practically, they would need Rochefort to meet Milady as there was always the risk that, if it wasn't Rochefort who was waiting, she wouldn't even show herself.

Aramis scrambled off the bed leaving the new unconscious vampire on his own and went to his jacket handing over the chair beside the door to search for his phone. His hand was shaking so badly that he almost dropped the device. He took it over to the corner of the room where he sunk down and tried to control an overwhelming feeling of terror which was suddenly hitting him. He could feel the human blood in his veins, the high was already kicking in.

He searched through the names on his phone and dailed a number and a wonderful, soft, gentle voice came on the other end of the line.

“You alright, love? I'm at work, can't really talk.”

“Porthos...” Aramis whispered, trying to hold back the tears. “I've done something really stupid...”

\-------------------------------------

“Go to him,” Athos suggested as soon as they both finally left the house and found d'Artagnan pacing frantically on the pavement. As soon as he saw Constance he gasped and ran over. They flung their arms around each other and kissed passionately. Athos averted his eyes a little and only turned back when he was quite certain that they had finished.

“What happened?” d'Artagnan asked, only pulling back to look at the marks on Constance' face. “Did someone hurt you? That guy you live with, he climbed out of a first-floor window, fell into the bushes and then limped away.”

Constance looked over her shoulder at Athos to silently stop him from speaking. She then turned back to d'Artagnan with a look of affection as she brushed some of his ever growing hair back behind his ear. “I'll tell you when we get home. I'm going to stay with you for a while, if that's okay?”

“Of course it's okay,” d'Artagnan immediately said. “It's more than okay. I mean...I'd like that very much.” He was grinning and it wasn't long until both Constance and her bag were inside their house. Constance didn't quite seem ready to tell d'Artagnan everything and d'Artagnan was politely not probing knowing that she'd tell him when she was ready. Instead they both decided to cook dinner together.

\--------------------------------

Aramis had the bedroom window wide open so, as soon as he heard the old car with the noisy exhaust which unmistakably belonged to Porthos, he ran out of the bedroom and down the grand stairs before Rochefort's butler appeared. When he opened the front door to a very baffled looking Porthos, he grabbed Porthos by the arm and started dragging him back up the stairs. Porthos obediently followed but he really didn't understand what was going on.

“Please don't be mad at me,” Aramis said, now fully clothed, as he continued to guide the werewolf down the long hallway and into the master bedroom. He left the door open, as it felt better with the door open and only let go of Porthos once they were both inside. Porthos surveyed the new surroundings for a while but it didn't take him long to see the body on the bed.

“Oh god...you haven't....you didn't?”

Aramis cringed. Porthos was going to be really mad, that was a given. He just hoped that Porthos would also understand why he had done it. Porthos took a couple of tentative steps towards the bed trying to see more of the body.

“Have you...did you...kill him?” Porthos said quietly as he inched closer.

“What?” Aramis asked, genuinely shocked before realising that it did look a bit like a murder scene. “No! He's not dead. Well...it's complicated.”

“Oh,” Porthos said, letting out a breath of air in relief as he looked over his shoulder at the vampire. “So you just drank from him? I can see the blood on your lips.”

Aramis cringed a little again and awkwardly leaned back against the wall, bringing his thumb up to chew on it. “Bit worse than that,” he mumbled against his thumb.

Porthos was really flummoxed then. He stopped his small steps and turned around to face Aramis properly. “So he's not dead but you did more than just feed on him? Love...I'm confused.” Suddenly Porthos' head darted to stare at the bed and then back to Aramis and the look of hurt on his face almost broke Aramis' heart. “Did you..have sex with him?”

“No!” Aramis yelled and pushed himself away from the wall. “Stop this crazy guessing. I...” He still found himself unable to say it but he knew that he had to. He had chosen to call Porthos, which had never been part of the plan but now he had to be honest with him. “...I turned him into a vampire.”

“You did what?!”

“I know, I'm sorry,” Aramis said, swinging his arms down. “I fucked up. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Why did you do that?!” Porthos asked, astounded by the revelation.

“Because we had a deal; Rochefort was going to set up a meeting with Milady and I had to turn him into a vampire.”

Porthos thought about it all for a moment before sighing. “And you thought that was a good idea...how?”

“I wanted to help Athos and d'Artagnan,” Aramis admitted, although it seemed to sound even more pathetic out loud than it did in his head. “Athos needs to confront his wife. That's his closure. That's his ending.”

“But you...oh love,” Porthos sighed deeply and turned back to look at Rochefort who still hadn't woken up. Aramis figured he would do soon enough and he'd be dazed and incredibly thirsty. “Rochefort becoming a vampire is bloody awful idea,” Porthos pointed out.

“I know!” Aramis screamed, falling back against the wall. “I know! I know! Stop telling me what I already know! Shut up!”

“Aramis...” Porthos said, far too calmly in the circumstances. He stepped forwards the vampire with his hand out, trying to calm Aramis down. “You've got human blood in you so you need to control yourself. Don't go all bad vampire on me, I need you to focus right now.”

Aramis nodded weakly and, close to tears, felt Porthos place his large hand against his chest. Aramis sniffed and stepped forward, pushing himself into the warm familiar chest. Porthos immediately wrapped his arms around him and squeezed him tightly. “We'll figure something out, love, I promise. Don't be scared.”

Whilst Porthos felt quite terrified himself he tried not to show it as he quickly began to think of a solution to their new vampire problem.

The temporary solution involved carrying an unconscious Rochefort into Porthos' car and driving them all back to the house. The three already in the house looked baffled as the vampire and werewolf carried Rochefort through the hallway but Rochefort had already begun to moan so they didn't have time to explain. They carted Rochefort up the stairs and into the attic where they promptly tied the new waking vampire to the chair which hadn't been moved since Aramis' little visit.

“This isn't...this isn't going to work...” Aramis said, standing up and staggering backwards after tying Rochefort's ankle to the same strap which had been around his own foot not so long ago.

“Why not?” Porthos asked, knowing full well that the other three were probably standing on the landing just down the steps wondering what on hell was going on.

“Because he'll need to drink blood straight away. His cravings for it will be immense and overwhelming. New vampires need blood for energy or they just die.”

Porthos stood over Rochefort and watched as the blond began moving his head about, groaning in confusion. Porthos' heart was beating at a million times a second.

“Well where the bloody hell are we going to get blood from?” Porthos sighed. He didn't even want to think about it. In fact he was pretty shaken up by the whole thing. In fact he walked right past Aramis and left the room. He went down the steps and did indeed find the others right there waiting.

“Porthos?” Constance asked, stepping forward to block his path. “What's going on?”

Porthos felt angry at all of them although he wasn't sure why. Aramis had made it very clear in the car that not even Athos had known about the 'deal', although he was Athos he ended up looking at as he spoke.

“Aramis turned Rochefort into a vampire so Rochefort would agree to arrange a meeting with your witch,” was what Porthos said before using his shoulder to shove past Constance and go into the bathroom. He needed space, he needed to breathe. Constance's eyes almost popped out of her head as she turned to the other two who looked equally as shocked. Or at least d'Artagnan did, Athos just seemed puzzled.

“He never told me that part,” the ghost admitted.

“Does that mean Aramis drank his blood?” d'Artagnan asked innocently. “Do we have two chairs?”

 


	31. Aramis won't hurt us

“Don't come near me,” came the voice from somewhere in the darkness of the bedroom. The light from the hallway helped Constance see a small amount and she soon spotted him sitting in the corner of his bedroom, legs pulled up to his chest. It was a sorry sight and it rather reminded her of a three-year-old child who had been put on the naughty step by Supernanny.

“Aramis...” Constance said softly and took a tentative step inside the bedroom despite the verbal warning.

“Don't come near me!” The vampire snapped but there wasn't really much behind the words and Constance wasn't afraid. Why should she be? She had been friends with Aramis back when he was still drinking blood and he had never hurt her. Why would it be different now? She would have told him exactly that if she thought he'd listen but she had a feeling he was lost in his own little world of feeling sorry for himself.

So she continued to walk into the bedroom slowly and sat down carefully onto the bed facing the sorrowful vampire still crouching in the corner.

“No-one's actually mad at you, you know,” she said delicately, wanting him to know that first and foremost and then continued with a little less delicacy. “We all think you're an idiot but we love you all the same.”

There was a silence which lingered in the bedroom for a moment before the vampire spoke quietly. “I only wanted to help.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Constance responded, desperately trying to stop the urge she had to get down onto the carpet and hug him. “I know. But sometimes you need to engage your brain first.”

“Porthos is mad...” Aramis then pointed out. “He's mad. Stupid, stupid dog. I hate werewolves, I fucking hate...”

“Stop,” Constance warned sternly, frowning down at him even though he wasn't even looking up at her. “We can't put you in the chair, Aramis, you must control those thoughts or we'll have to do so drastic.”

She wasn't exactly sure what being 'drastic' would entail although the basement down at the Garrison had been suggested. Constance really hoped that they wouldn't have to use it. She watched as Aramis pulled at his hair and made a frustrated whining noise but then appeared to loosen his fingers and calm himself down.

“Aramis...” Constance said again and slid off the bed to kneel down onto the carpet just a couple of metres in front him. She hoped to feel less imposing on the same level and she also desperately wanted him to look at her. “Porthos is upset but only because he's worried and doesn't know what to do. And he doesn't want to see you go through withdrawal again. None of us do.”

Aramis lifted his head slightly and did finally reveal his face. Although it was still dark Constance could see the tears in his eyes glistening. “On Sunday Milady will be at theMusée d'Orsay,” he told her quietly. “I don't want Athos to get his ending because I really don't want him to leave but it's his choice, he's the one having to live as a ghost. This is his chance to finally get his closure if he wants it.”

Constance nodded, understanding as best she could. “That's up to Athos, I agree, but what about you? You drank blood again. I know normal vampires can go a couple of days without blood but we all saw what happened after you drank from d'Artagnan. You started craving more so quickly, it's because you're not used to it. And now you've got human blood in your system again, Aramis, and none of us know what to do.”

“There is something you can do...” Aramis said to her.

“What?” she asked, willing to do anything to help.

“Leave my bedroom. You smell too good.”

Constance sighed and resided herself to the fact that she had at least tried to get through to him. “Alright, I will, but only because I don't want to make things harder for you but, Aramis, you'll have to come out eventually.”

\--------------------

“Come over here, you little runt,” Rochefort spat, tugging at the restraints which were holding his wrists firmly to the arms of the chair. Or at least d'Artagnan hoped so because, whilst Rochefort was clearly weak, his venomous tongue was still working incredibly well. “I'll suck you dry. I'll drink every last drop and enjoy every second of it.”

“Oh,” d'Artagnan said as he stood in the attic feeling really quite fascinated by the whole situation. Rochfort was only the second vampire d'Artagnan had ever met although it had only taken him a couple of minutes to decide that he didn't like Rochefort very much. “Well that makes me want to come near you. Good persuasive skills there.”

Athos was standing close to the door, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He had been staring at Rochefort ever since they'd come up into the attic out of some morbid curiosity, wondering what on earth Aramis had been thinking before realising that Aramis had just been trying to help...again. It was starting to become a worryingly repetitive trait.

“Come here, human!” Rochefort yelled, sweat already dripping down his face.

“You don't want me to do that really,” d'Artagnan pointed out teasingly. “Because there are lots of sharp nails on the floor and I'm not wearing any shoes. What if I cut my foot and blood starts dripping out? Drip...drip...drip...red, fresh, beautiful human blood.”

Rochefort closed his eyes and licked his lips at the thought; his new sharp teeth were on display. When they had pushed through the first time it had hurt and his gums had bleed but he had quickly lapped the blood up and he was already getting used to the feeling. “Mmm yes, I want that.”

“Well tough,” d'Artangan interjected. “Because I'm not going over there.”

Rochefort's black eyes immediately opened again and he glared at the human. “Oh I will get you soon enough. I'll get you and my teeth coming towards you will be the last thing you will ever see.”

“Unfortunately for you you're tied to a chair and I happen to have a stake underneath my pillow for emergency use. So if either of us is going to die...”

“D'Artagnan,” Athos eventually interrupted. “Cease engaging in conversation with him.”

“But it's so tempting,” d'Artagnan pointed out as he turned to Athos who did understand a little. Rochefort was very loud and rather difficult to ignore which reminded them both of Aramis back when he had been tied up in that exact chair. Footsteps soon distracted them as Porthos came up the steps and walked into the room. Rochefort sniffed the air and looked at Porthos somewhat intrigued.

“You smell different. Why do you smell different?” he tilted his head to the side and studied Porthos for a while. The werewolf briefly looked at him but then turned his attention to the ghost and human.

“Come downstairs. We all need to talk.”

They nodded and ignored Rochefort's screaming protests as they followed Porthos downstairs into the kitchen where Constance was already waiting. They were all soon sitting around the kitchen table in silent disbelief as Porthos fully explained the situation just as Aramis had told him in the car. It was Constance who spoke first once Porthos had finished.

“What are our options?” she asked the gathered group. “Aramis has had blood so he'll either need to go through withdrawal again or he'll have to keep drinking blood. And Rochefort, he'll have to drink blood as well if he's going to continue to take part in this and arrange the meeting with Milady.”

“Do we really need him there?” Athos asked her although his question wasn't aimed at Constance specifically.

Constance shrugged. “Surely she's not stupid? She probably won't show herself unless she sees him. Personally I think it's all madness. It was Aramis himself who said that she's powerful.” Her attention remained on Athos. “What are you planning to do when you see her exactly?”

Athos didn't say anything. He just starting staring down at the table as if he was thinking. His lack of a response made Constance sigh and so she turned to look at Porthos hoping for a more helpful reaction.

“And why you mad at Aramis? He's an idiot certainly but he was just trying to help. Don't be angry with him, Porthos, he needs your support now more than ever. What do we do with him?”

Porthos remained silent as well although he was at least looking at her. Constance began feeling very frustrated until eventually Porthos did speak up, although it was nothing to do with Aramis.

“What happened to your lip?”

Constance felt flustered at the sudden change in topic and sank back into her chair a little, automatically reaching up to finger the cut on her lip tenderly. “Nothing. That isn't important right now.” She didn't like the attention on her so she decided to turn it back to the matter at hand. “Boys, listen, we need to all agree on what we're going to do.”

“I'll tell you what we're going to do,” came a very calm voice from the doorway which had them all turning their heads. Aramis was standing there in a new black shirt, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He looked different. The tears were gone and the guilty emotions he had been feeling were no longer obvious. “We're going to meet Milady and Athos is going to kill her...if he so wishes. D'Artagnan can come along as well if he chooses. Rochefort and I will both be there to help. She is powerful but that's at least two vampires and a ghost against a witch who isn't expecting the ambush, I believe in our chances.”

They all watched baffled as a remarkably calm Aramis strolled into the kitchen and opened up the fridge as he continued to talk. “And, afterwards, two more things will happen; I'll deal with Rochefort and then you'll tie me to the chair.” Aramis pulled out a piece of cold pizza, sniffed it, made a face and then put it back.

“And how will you deal with Rochefort?” Athos asked as he twisted in his chair to face the vampire.

“Simple,” Aramis said, temporarily giving up on his food hunt in order to face them. “I'll make sure he gets to Richelieu.”

“And what will that achieve?” Porthos asked, finally looking at Aramis, still feeling cross about the entire situation.

“I've thought about it and realised that Rochefort has only known Richelieu for a few years, I've known the man for decades. He ordered Rochefort not to become a vampire, he'll be furious when he finds out the truth, which he will because he always does and he hates arrogant vampires like Rochefort, he won't let him into the coven. Rochefort will either be ostracised from Paris or killed. Either way, that'll sort out our problem.”

“And you'd be happy if he gets killed?” Porthos asked, standing up from the chair.

“Not happy per say,” Aramis admitted as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “But it's not in my hands what happens to him. He made his choice.”

Porthos snorted a little. “The blood inside you is talking. You might not feel the same when you're not high.”

“I'm not high,” Aramis protested with a frown.

“You did just turn down eating cold pizza which means there's something seriously wrong with you,” mumbled the young human who so far hadn't said a word. Aramis looked at d'Artagnan for long enough to make them all a little nervous before he shrugged and pushed himself away from the kitchen counter, pointing at Porthos before he set about opening some cupboards.

“You liked me back when I was drinking blood. You and Constance both did. You can survive this version of me again for a couple of days. It won't kill you.”

“It might kill me,” d'Artagnan whispered as he swallowed nervously.

They all watched as Aramis continued to search for food and seemed to reject every bit of junk food he came across. That was until Athos finally rose to his feet.

“Then it's settled. Rochefort and Aramis both drink blood until Sunday. Then Rochefort goes to the Paris coven and Aramis goes to the chair.” He looked across at Porthos. “I will have to trust you to do that.”

“Why me?” Porthos asked, both baffled and annoyed at the responsibility.

“Because I might not be here anymore,” Athos pointed out before turning and leaving the kitchen.

“Damn it, Aramis!” Porthos said, slamming his fist down against the nearby wall.

“Why are you damning me?” Aramis asked, genuinely sounding baffled at Porthos' outburst but Porthos didn't respond, he just marched out of the kitchen as well.

“Werewolves, they're so emotional,” Aramis muttered and went back to his food hunt. Constance rubbed her forehead in a vain attempt to stop the growing headache.

\----------------------------

“You can have it under your pillow,” d'Artagnan said and moved around his double-bed to place the stake underneath the pillow on the side of the bed where they had already agreed Constance would be sleeping. Constance watched him and smiled. She already had her nightie on and she was tingling with happiness at the thought of sharing a bed with d'Artagnan again, even in the circumstances.

“Aramis won't hurt us,” she assured d'Artagnan.

“It's not really Aramis I'm worried about,” d'Artagnan admitted, nodding up at the ceiling where Rochefort was still tied-up in the attic.

“He won't be-able to get free,” Constance reassured the young man who was wearing nothing but a pair of sweat pants and looking incredibly handsome as Constance thought he always did. “Aramis never did and Aramis must be stronger because he's an older vampire.”

“Still,” d'Artangan said, “the stake is right there if you need it.” He patted the pillow again and smiled at Constance as he stood up.

“Well I don't really need the stake because I have my hero to protect me,” she pointed out, swinging her nightie a little as she stepped towards him. D'Artagnan smiled and his smile grew even larger when Constance came close enough to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He leaned forward to kiss her on the lips which felt as special as it always did.

“I think you're the hero to be honest,” d'Artagnan pointed out when he pulled back from the kiss. “You were very brave to leave your brother and come to live here. Can I be honest with you about something?” he asked Constance, looking at her seriously for a moment. She nodded just as seriously back.

“I...” he began. “I've wanted revenge on the Comtesse de la Fère for so long but now I'm days away from possibly meeting her...I'm not sure I want to. Is that weird?”

Constance looked at him sympathetically. “No, that's not weird, d'Artagnan. The reality of something is different to the fantasy.”

“No it's not that,” d'Artagnan admitted. “I think I've moved on from it now, like I know my dad would have wanted me to and it's Athos...I don't want Athos to leave.”

“Neither do I,” Constance admitted with a whisper before stepping forward and pressing her face against d'Artagnan's warm shoulder.

\--------------------------

Aramis decided to avoid where he used to work in the morgue for fear of being recognised and so he went to a smaller hospital in Paris. Having done what he was about to do quite a few times in the past, he knew it wouldn't take him long to grab a couple of bags of donated blood. But, on his way to the blood bank, he had to walk past the oncology unit which was where, on this occasion, he happened to stumble across a very familiar face. She was sitting in a wheelchair and she had aged a couple of decades since he had last seen her. She now have a few more wrinkles, she was a lot thinner and she looked terribly pale but Aramis was in no doubt that it was her.

He froze in the corridor which caused Adele to look up and she gasped in shock the second she saw him standing there gawking. “Aramis? It...it can't be.”

He smiled warmly. How could he not? He hadn't seen her in over twenty years but she looked just as beautiful as she had on the day when they parted ways.

“Hello, Adele.”

“Oh my god,” she said and, clearly overcome with emotion, she brought her hand up to cover her open mouth, a hospital band dangling from her wrist. “You look just the same.”

“Well,” Aramis gave a bit of a shy shrug and waited for the realisation to hit her. Which it did as she lowered her hand and chuckled.

“Of course, you don't age, do you? Oh my god. I didn't think I'd ever see you again.”

Aramis moved forward and got down to his knees beside the wheelchair. He immediately reached out and clasped her hand in two of his, giving it a squeeze. “I never thought I'd see you again either after you left Paris...twenty-five years ago? Why did you come back?”

Adele looked down at him and Aramis noticed how gaunt she looked, her cheek bones so pronounced and her skin was almost translucent. “I'm sick, Aramis. I came back to take part in a drugs trial but it didn't work. They're moving me to a hospice in a couple of days.”

“A hospice?” Aramis asked, confused. But a hospice was where they sent people who were...

“Cancer,” she explained. “I only have a few more weeks to live. I'm on so much morphine I could probably chop my leg off and not noticed.”

“Adele, no,” Aramis whispered his sympathy and lowered his head, pressing his forehead down onto her hand. He felt weak fingers stroking through his hair slowly.

“Some of us have to die, Aramis.”

Once they had both gotten over the shock Aramis wheeled her to the canteen where he brought her a cup of coffee that she careful lifted to her lips with slightly shaky hands.

“Which type?” Aramis asked curiously. Not that it mattered, cancer was cancer but, perhaps, she might want to talk about it.

“Breast cancer,” she explained as she lowered the cup back down. “I fought it off the first time, but not this time.”

“You seem too young,” Aramis pointed out.

“I'm fifty-five, Aramis,” she said with a hint of a smile. “I'm not thirty anymore. Those were the days weren't they? Back in the early nineties.”

Aramis smiled and nodded. “What a horrible decade though.”

That made her laugh and Aramis was reminded once more of why he fell in love with her. It was her eyes, they just glowed whenever she laughed even now, even though she was dying, there was still life in her eyes. “Yes, that's true. But you made it more fun. How are things?”

“Well, actually, things are good,” Aramis explained and decided to lie just a tiny bit because he wanted Adele to be proud of him. “I actually properly managed to give up blood. I've been off it for it for years.”

“Wow,” she looked genuinely impressed and pleased at the news. “You actually did it. You tried so hard when you were with me but it was so difficult for you.”

Aramis nodded, remembering it very clearly. “I was in a coven back then. I had a lot of pressure on me. I shouldn't have even risked my affair with a human. But I've left the coven now and it gave me the freedom to give it a really good try. As did some friends. They really encouraged me and helped me.”

“I'm so pleased,” Adele said and reached out for him but then flinched and had to stop herself so Aramis leaned forward to help and allow her to hold his hand.

“Tell me about your life, Adele. Tell me you had a good one. Did you get married?”

“Yes,” Adele informed him with a smile. “To a wonderful man. A very good man but he was a few years older than me and he died himself five years ago. We never had children. He already had some from his previous marriage and he didn't want anymore.”

“But you wanted children?” Aramis pointed out. She had mentioned that back when they had their secret whirlwind romance. In fact, that was partly why they had been forced to end it because biological children was something a vampire would never be-able to provide.

“Yes,” Adele admitted. “But it was okay. I loved him enough to accept his decision on the matter and I adore my step-children.”

“And he didn't have to fight the urge to drink from you every time you made love? Sounds like a better relationship than the one you had with me,” Aramis said, half jokingly and half sadly.

“Oh, Aramis,” Adele sighed happily, giving his hand a clear squeeze despite her weakness. “I never forgot about you. I've spent the last twenty-five years wondering what how you were doing and hoping you were okay. And, look, God has sent you to me again right before I'm about to die. I feel very blessed that I get a chance to say goodbye. Have you found happiness?”

“Yes,” Aramis admitted. “With a man actually.”

That piece of information seemed to make Adele giggle. “Is he handsome?”

“Very,” Aramis told her. “And strong and incredibly kind...and forgiving.”

“He'd have to be with you.”

He gave her a look but then laughed. Despite the short few months they had spent together she knew him very well. “Yeah, that's very true. No he's...he's great and there's also someone else who I like a little as well but he might be leaving soon.”

“Goodness, Aramis, your life is never simple is it?”

“Nope,” Aramis admitted. “Never simple. Still, if I had a simple life I never would have met that beautiful blond at the bar in Spain and fallen head-over-heals in love with her.”

The compliment made her laugh. “I remember when you offered to make me a vampire and I turned you down.”

“Do you regret that now?” he asked, the conversation suddenly turning a lot more sombre.

“No, no. At the time I wanted children and the thought of being immortal was never all that appealing to me. I can imagine it sort of takes the fun out of life.”

Aramis suddenly leaned forward in his chair and looked at her desperately with pleading eyes. “But you could change you mind, right here and now. I could make you immortal, Adele. Your cancer would be cured straight away. You only have to ask. I'd do anything for you.”

“Then do this for me, Aramis, go home and show that man you love exactly how much you love him. I don't need you to do anything more than that.”

\-----------------------------

Porthos pushed the door of Athos' room open slowly and found the ghost sitting on his bed with an X-box controller in his hand, seemingly immersed in a computer game. So Porthos stepped in and closed the door behind himself. The ghost didn't even look up as Porthos went over and sat down next to him on the bed. There they both stayed quiet for a couple of minutes, Porthos watching Athos' character on the screen hunting people down and shooting them in the head which seemed uncomfortable violent to Porthos at that moment for some reason. So he decided to no longer watch, he just stared at the wall behind the TV screen until Athos said finally said something.

“Would you like to play?”

Porthos shook his head. He didn't want to play, he wanted to talk only he wasn't sure what he wanted to talk about.

“Where's Aramis?” Athos asked, although his attention was still on the game.

“I don't know,” Porthos said quietly.

The information made Athos sigh and he stopped playing his game. He lowered the controller down but continued to stare at his lap. “He's still Aramis, you know. He's still _your_ Aramis. I know he lied and I'm angry at him about that as well but we can't turn our backs on him now.”

Porthos nodded a little but his bottom lip was quivering. “I'm not...I'm not angry with him,” the werewolf admitted, his voice shaking with emotion. “I'm just...scared.”

“What are you scared of?” Athos asked, lifting his head and reaching out to place what he hoped would be a reassuring hand on Porthos' arm, giving it a friendly squeeze. Porthos seemed to appreciate the gesture as he took in a deep breath the moment he was touched.

“I'm scared that he'll like drinking blood again and won't want to stop.”

“That's not going to happen,” Athos said quickly. “He told us that he'll go into the chair once Sunday is over with. That implies that he wants to go back to being free from blood again.”

“Yeah but he says that now he might change his mind in two days and we can't force him into the chair. Both times we've done it, it was his decision, he stepped into the chair.”

“And he will do it again,” Athos promised although it was a false promise with words just being said to make Porthos feel better. Athos had no-idea what would happen after Sunday. Although there was a certainty to his words when he continued. “He loves you, Porthos. He'll want to do whatever will make things better between the two of you again. Don't ever doubt his love for you.”

Porthos nodded and began to cry, tears streaming down his cheeks. Athos sighed at the sorry sight and reached out to wrap his arm around the werewolf and pull his big frame against him. Porthos collapsed into the embrace and wrapped his arms around the ghost so tightly that Athos was certain he'd suffocate if he wasn't already dead. And, as he was held by a crying Porthos, he realised how much he cared for the man and how much he wanted to make all of his anxiety and worry go away.

 


	32. Darth Vader type evil

“This wasn't part of the deal,” Rochefort pointed out with a glare as Aramis stepped foot inside the attic a couple of hours later. Rochefort had been shaking, shivering and genuinely feeling terribly ill but all he could focus on was the feeling of betrayal.

“I know,” Aramis admitted as he walked further into room still wearing his leather jacket and with something hidden behind his back. “But the deal changed. We were worried you wouldn't uphold your end of it so you'll be staying here until Sunday. Then, once Milady shows up, you're free to do as you please. In fact I'll take you to King Louis myself.”

Rochefort didn't say anything at first, he just frowned. Aramis moved closer to the chair. It felt very strange for him to see someone else in it for a change. Eventually Rochefort spoke.

“Well perhaps I have changed my mind. I don't think I wish to help you anymore. Not if you're going to hold me prisoner.”

“Really?” Aramis asked teasingly. “Well that's a shame because you don't look very well and I have something that might make you feel a little better.” He pulled out a bag of donated blood from behind his back which he had just stolen from the hospital and held it up. Rochefort immediately sat up in the chair at the sight of the red liquid. “It's not quite as good as drinking it from a living human but it'll keep you going and O positive has a nice taste to it. But if you don't want it...”

Aramis sighed, shrugged and turned to walk away. It took Rochefort a whole second before he shouted, “No! I want it!”

Aramis smiled to himself before spinning back around. He knew that he was being a bit of a bastard but then again, whilst he was on blood, he could unfortunately give Rochefort a run for his money in the bastard stakes.

“Give me the blood, there's a good lad,” Rochefort said, almost hyperventilating in excitement, tugging at his arm restraints in an attempt to get to what he needed.

“You might want to stop calling me lad because, considering I'm a few decades older than you, it's rather patronising,” Aramis pointed out which made Rochefort's pale face smirk.

“What would you rather I call you? Master?”

Aramis thought about it for a very brief moment before admitting, “No, that's worse, we'll stick to lad.”

Then he looked at the bag he was holding out in front of himself and sighed deeply. God he wanted it; he wanted it more than he had wanted anything in his entire life but he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that he had in himself. After over three years of being dry he was back to the beginning again. He just had to keep reminding himself that it was only temporary.

It wasn't long before he couldn't hold back any longer. He let his teeth push through his gums and then used them to rip at the bag. Lifting it up he squeezed some of the blood out and poured it into his mouth.

“Aramis...” he heard Rochefort groan in delight as he watched his maker drink. Aramis swallowed and felt it going down the back of his throat. It was pure heaven in a bag, or hell as the case might be. He continued to drink half of the bag and then lowered it, licking his lips as he immediately felt the effects kick in. The rush of euphoria which gave him the sensation of floating off the ground. Everything smelt different, sounded different and looked different. It was like having super powers. He closed his eyes and let himself feel _everything_.

He was only brought out of his dream-like state by Rochefort who was still watching and moaning now in some sort of twisted arousal. “Aramis...” he whispered again. “Aramis...I need some. Give some to me.”

Aramis slowly opened his eyes again. Rochefort was glowing, there was an aura around him which shone gold. Aramis staggered towards his new vampire and straddled the man's lap. Rochefort licked his lips with delight as Aramis sat himself down and then Rochefort obediently tilted his head back, opening up his mouth.

\---------------------------------

“Gonna go to bed,” Porthos mumbled after spending time just holding Athos and crying. He was amazed in fact that Athos had even let it happen for so long, knowing full well that Athos wasn't the type who usually liked being touched it had meant a lot to Porthos that Athos had stoically put up with all the hugging. In fact Porthos wanted to kiss Athos for it but that thought confused him so he promptly pulled away.

“Goodnight, Athos,” Porthos said, even though it was barely still night, he could see daylight creeping in from underneath the bottom of Athos' curtains.

“Goodnight,” Athos said back and Porthos got up off the bed and made his way back to his own bedroom.

He felt drained and exhausted. He had begun to wonder where Aramis was but the thought only brought back the sick feeling of worry which he had been carrying so he tried to forget about it as he went into his bedroom. Only, the second he stepped foot inside his room, he discovered exactly where Aramis was. The vampire attacked him, throwing himself against his body he kissed Porthos in a way that made Porthos stumble back so heavily against the door that it slammed shut. He automatically grabbed Aramis by the hips as the vampire's cold tongue shoved into his mouth and Porthos had no option but to accept it. Aramis was moaning desperately and tugging at Porthos' t-shirt so furiously that the fabric began to rip. Before Porthos knew it, Aramis was ripping his t-shirt open and pulling it off his chest.

“Aramis,” Porthos eventually managed to pant as the vampire pulled away to tug his own clothes off but, the second Aramis was topless, he launched himself at the werewolf again. Porthos found his back hitting the wall as Aramis jumped and wrapped his legs around him. They kissed so furiously that Porthos' lips already felt bruised. He grabbed Aramis' thighs and staggered over to the bed where he unceremoniously dropped Aramis down onto his back. Aramis immediately reached out for him and Porthos fell onto his body with a thud which only made Aramis whimper with delight and grab a handful of the werewolf's hair to tug him down for another furious kiss. Porthos had no-idea what had gotten into the vampire but he was enjoying it too much to really care.

\-------------------------

Athos had believed that not having his room next to Aramis' meant it was in a pretty good position but his room was next to Porthos' which, at that moment, was proving to be a problem.

He tried to drown out the noises of the bed banging against the wall and Aramis' loud groans with his hands over his ears but it wasn't working. He told himself to be happy that they were obviously making up with each other but there was an odd emotion that he felt which he couldn't explain but it was making him not want to listen to it. So he promptly got up and phased through his door only being out in the hallway didn't help much either, he could still hear them. The steps to the attic got his attention and he walked up them slowly, not really sure what he would find when he reached the top.

What he found was Rochefort sitting in the chair, his head swaying about a little and his eyeballs pure black. If Athos didn't know any better he'd think that the man was on heroin. But he wasn't a human on drugs, he was a vampire on blood and it didn't take Rochefort long to notice his guest. He lifted his head up and looked at Athos with squinted dark eyes.

“What are you?” Rochefort whispered, as if he wasn't quite certain if he was dreaming or not.

“I'm a ghost,” Athos admitted. There was no reason to hide it from him.

“Of course,” Rochefort said and the side of his mouth curled up into something which half resembled a smile. “I've never met a ghost before.”

“Well you were human before,” Athos pointed out as he moved closer into the room to get a little closer. “You're not anymore.”

“No I'm not,” Rochefort seemed very pleased about that fact. He looked up at the ceiling, as if there was something really interesting up there. In fact it even made Athos glance upwards just to check. “I'm a beautiful creature now. I'm what I was always meant to be.”

“You think of vampire's as beautiful creatures?” he asked, once realising that there was nothing of interest on the ceiling and the vampire was just high.

“I am a beautiful creature,” Rochefort informed him, head tilting back to look at the ghost. “Can't you see?”

Athos shook his head slowly. “I see a pathetic creature who craves power and thirsts for blood. You were more free before, Rochefort, you're not anymore.”

Rochefort smirked but didn't say anything. Athos continued to look at him curiously.

“Tell me about Milady,” Athos probed as he slowly walked around the chair, hoping to disorientate the vampire a little.

Rochefort snorted, “I don't know much about her. I was curious once and asked a couple of the vampire's but all they told me were stories.”

“What stories?” Athos asked.

“They told me that she is a powerful witch and she sucks the life from humans once in a while in order to stay beautiful and young. She used to be far more powerful but then something happened to her not so long ago. She disappeared for a few years or something, rumours are that she fell in love but the fool obviously broke her heart because then she went on a killing spree, got into trouble with the vampire council for it, and is now making things up to them by working for Richelieu.”

“So she has to work for Richelieu?” Athos probed as he continued to walk in deliberate circles around the chair.

Rochefort shrugged. “I don't know the terms of their agreement. I just know that, if I have a problem which needs to be dealt with, Richelieu usually sends her. She's like a contract killing witch or something.”

Athos nodded and tried not to show any sort of a reaction to Rochefort who was now eyeing him up suspiciously.

“Can I have more blood?”

“No,” Athos said with a frown. “I don't have blood for you.”

“Then I no longer desire to speak to you. You may leave,” Rochefort informed the ghost, with a determined turn of his head away from Athos. Athos stared at the blond, a little shocked at the abrupt dismissal but he had managed to get more information out of Rochefort than he ever thought he would so he left somewhat satisfied.

\------------------------------

Porthos grunted each time he thrust his hips forward, pushing himself into the delightful tightness underneath him. Aramis cried out each time Porthos pounded into him and begged for more and asked for it harder. So Porthos did it harder and their bodies slapped together even more loudly as Aramis tugged at the hand-cuffs which were attached to the headboard and holding his wrists firmly in place. Porthos gripped onto Aramis' shaking arms as he lay against the man's back, sweat dripping from his bare chest onto Aramis' arching spine.

“Porthos, please...please...” Aramis begged into the pillow as he lay on his stomach and Porthos thrust into him powerfully again, the bed creaking forward and the headboard slamming against the wall. “Porthos...” Aramis whimpered which made Porthos' head spin. This time he didn't care that Aramis was being noisy, he wanted Aramis to be loud, he wanted to hear how much Aramis was enjoying it. So he pounded into him again and again, sending the headboard slamming into the wall over and over. His hips smacking against Aramis' round arse cheeks each time he shoved inside. They had never done this before and Porthos now never wanted to do anything else.

Aramis began whimpering, whining and tightening which made Porthos just want to hammer into him even faster so he did. He pushed himself up on the bed a little and started thrusting his hips so furiously that it was making his head spin. Aramis began groaning his name in delight as Porthos pummelled his cock into him so frantically that it made Porthos howl as the wolf inside him of began to take over whilst its carnal desires were currently being fed.

“Porthos!” Aramis managed to scream, loving every second of the onslaught before his body tensed, his balls became tight and he came hard over the bed sheets without even being touched. Porthos slammed inside the clenched muscles another couple of times before he growled and came also, spilling everything he had into Aramis. When it was over, all too soon, he collapsed forward onto Aramis' back and they both panted furiously. Even a vampire high in blood could get out of breath when sex was _that_ good.

Porthos lay against Aramis for a good couple of minutes before some level of sense entered back into his head and he suddenly began to panic. He pushed himself up off Aramis' back and looked up at one of Aramis' wrists which was still attached to the headboard.

“Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?” he asked, desperately worried all of a sudden. The question made Aramis chuckled and snort beneath him.

“Porthos, it was amazing.”

“I kinda...I kinda got carried away,” Porthos admitted and, despite the fact every muscle in his body now ached, he pushed himself up to scramble off Aramis' naked body to fetch the key for the hand-cuffs. Aramis was smiling with his cheek pressed against the pillow when Porthos quikcly returned.

“I wanted you to,” Aramis admitted. “You didn't hurt me. I loved it.”

Porthos paused for a moment to brush some of Aramis' curls away from his face, which was mostly an act done as an excuse to check the colour of the vampire's eyes but they were chocolate brown so Porthos used the little key to unlock the handcuffs. The vampire immediately groaned with some level of discomfort as he began to move. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and rubbed at his sore wrists.

“Do your wrists hurt?” Porthos asked, suddenly panicking again which made Aramis chuckle and he rolled onto his side to face his werewolf lover.

“Porthos, stop! I'm high on blood. I'll heal within seconds. Stop your bloody worrying.”

He reached out for Porthos and Porthos obediently leaned forward into his arms and they held each other on the bed for a while.

“I do worry about you,” Porthos admitted, mumbled into Aramis' shoulder.

“I know but stop,” Aramis told him and thought about Adele's words which reminded him to make sure that Porthos knew exactly how he felt. “I love you. I love you and I'm so grateful that I get to spend this part of my life with you. I want you to know that.”

“I love you too,” Porthos said and began to cry again with relief that they had made up and yet there was still the terror of what might happen in a couple of days lingering in the back of his mind. He gripped onto Aramis' naked body tightly. “Please don't bite me,” he whispered through the tears which made Aramis chuckle.

\-----------------------------

When d'Artagnan opened the fridge and saw the two pints of blood in clear bags sitting next to the butter it made him shiver. So he quickly grabbed what he needed and slammed the fridge door closed, trying to wipe the sight from his mind.

The others had been right, Aramis was still Aramis whilst he was on blood, just a bit more of an annoying idiot. Name calling appeared to be his favourite thing but they had all managed to cope reasonably well with it so far. In fact it was only one argument, which had started of as a topical discussion on Lady Gaga, that almost turned violent but Constance turned up just in time to defuse it with her loud 'mother' voice. On the whole Aramis had surprised all the others by being remarkably well-behaved and had mostly stayed in the house to keep an eye on Rochefort.

However it was now Saturday and the meeting was only a day away. D'Artagnan had been doing a lot of thinking over the past day and had firmly decided that he didn't want Athos to leave and, if that meant letting Milady get away with murdering his father, then so be it. Perhaps murdering someone for being a murderer was a ridiculous concept anyway. D'Artagnan only wished that he was able to express these feelings to Athos. He had tried once the day before but had then clammed up when Athos stared at him, waiting for the words which wouldn't come out of his mouth.

D'Artagnan still couldn't stop thinking about it as he ate breakfast and then headed to The Garrison for work. Whilst in the kitchen and starting to prepare the food, Treville popped in to say good morning and immediately noticed that something was wrong.

“Dare I ask?” he said which made d'Artagnan look up and sigh. The young man had never been good at hiding his emotions, they were always very evident on his face.

“Aramis turned this blond guy called Rochefort into a vampire because Rochefort hosts these vampire parties or something, I don't know much about that because no-body told me, but he also knows Athos' ex-wife somehow, the one who murdered my father. So Aramis turned him into a vampire so he'd arrange a meeting with Milady, the witch, and the meeting is tomorrow and they've said I can go but I don't know if I want to go because I don't actually know if I want her dead now and what I really don't want is for Athos to leave us and pass into he afterlife because I'm not sure what that means and if it means I'll never see him again. So, I'm confused.”

Treville nodded very slowly as the complex story was thrown in his direction.

“What should I do?” d'Artagnan asked. Treville did a stop hand sign just to pause the youngster for a moment.

“Hold on,” he said, “still processing.”

So d'Artagnan waited patiently for a minute but quickly grew impatient as most young people eventually did. “Should I tell Athos...”

“Hold on,” Treville interrupted, “still processing.”

D'Artagnan sighed and waited a little longer until Treville suddenly stood up a bit straighter and then finally spoke.

“Okay I'm there. Yes you should talk to Athos. Tell him how you feel.”

D'Artagnan pouted and leaned back against the table where he had just been preparing profiteroles. “I tried yesterday but Athos was just being...intense and it was difficult because Aramis had our attention all day long because he was being a bit of a muppet as he's back on blood because he had to drink from Rochefort in order to turn him into a vampire.”

Treville looked puzzled again so d'Artagnan waited for all of that to sink in for him as well. Eventually it did seem to.

“Then get Athos out of the house. Invite him here. You can chat to him out the front before we open up.”

D'Artagnan's face suddenly lit up. That was a very good idea indeed! D'Artagnan immediately called the house-phone and got Porthos who had answered it to pass on the message to Athos and Athos, looking a tad confused, did at least turn up at the Garrison a few minutes later. D'Artagnan grinned at the ghost and got Athos to sit down at one of the tables close to the bar as the place wasn't open anyway so they weren't going to be disturbed.

“Everything alright?” Athos asked curiously at the young human in front of him. D'Artagnan paused for a moment, trying to figure out exactly how he wanted to start but then eventually decided to just go for it otherwise he would sit there like a gasping fish again and get no-where.

“I don't want you to kill Milady,” he blurted out which, if it shocked Athos, the ghost showed no sign. He just nodded once and turned his gaze away from the human, staring over at the pictures on the wall. This made d'Artagnan lean forward in his chair, trying to catch Athos' eye.

“You heard me right?”

“Of course,” Athos mumbled but he was looking over at a picture-frame.

“Athos,” d'Artagnan said and leaned forward even further, placing his arms down on the table and whirling his thumbs around each other. If the worry lines on his face weren't displaying his anxiety enough, his thumbs were now helping. “None of us want you to leave. You're part of our family. You don't have to do this.”

“I do,” Athos said promptly, sounding quite certain about the fact.

“Why?” d'Artagnan asked. “For you? Because I'm the son of someone she killed and I'm asking you not to kill her. Let me represent all the families of those she has murdered. I'm not saying she deserves to be let off, I wish she'd go to jail for it, but I don't think that killing her for killing other people is really the right thing to do anymore.”

Finally Athos looked at him and Athos appeared to be...annoyed. It made d'Artagnan cringe and he sat back in his chair to put some distance between the two of them.

“And when did you decide this?” Athos asked curiously.

“When...when...” d'Artagnan found himself stuttering over his words and his eyes turned to the kitchen door where he knew Treville was now with Gerard. For some reason thinking of his new friends gave him courage. Treville had told him to speak to Athos, so he was speaking to Athos. Even so, he had his head lowered when he finally managed to answer. “When I realised that I had moved on, like my father would have wanted me to. When I realised how happy I am with Constance and my career and my new family. I don't want that to change.”

“Things will change, d'Artagnan, because life happens. Maybe you're too young to understand that.”

Athos' words made d'Artagnan suddenly become the angry one and his frown matched the one on the ghost's face. “I do understand that, Athos! I do. I've lost both of my parents, remember? I know that life never stays the way you want it to. But what is killing her going to achieve? The vampires will find someone else to do their dirty work. People will still die. All that will happen is that you'll be gone.”

“You don't know her like I do,” Athos told him, sounding very serious about the matter.

“No, I don't,” d'Artagnan agreed. “Because I wasn't married to her like you were but the fact you married her makes me assume that she isn't Sauron type evil and that she's more Darth Vader type evil because there must be good in her somewhere, there was obviously something you liked about her when you asked her to marry you.”

Athos sighed and appeared to soften up a little. His body language relaxed and he looked at d'Artagnan with something which resembled sympathy more than annoyance. “She was bad before I knew her but yes, she may have changed for a few years when she met me but then she killed my brother and went back to her old ways.”

“But this isn't about her,” d'Artagnan pointed out, slapping his hands down on the table slightly louder than he had intended. “Not anymore. It's about you and us. I don't want you to go. None of the others want you to go. Can't you see that? We need you.”

“D'Artagnan,” Athos sighed and shook his head slowly, lowering his gaze down to his lap.

“Please, Athos. I've already lost both of my parents, I don't want to lose you as well. Not yet. I know it's not the best thing in the world being a ghost but it's a life, right? The after-life will be there forever this...this you only get one chance at. Stay with us for a little bit longer. Don't make us say goodbye to you, we're not ready.”

Slowly Athos lifted up his head again and he studied the young human in front of him until, eventually, something which resembled a smile began to form on his face. “Since when did you become so wise?”

D'Artagnan smiled back. “Since Porthos made me watch all of those boring documentaries.”

\----------------------------

“Aramis!” Came the gruff yell of a werewolf from the living-room.

Aramis, who had been in the kitchen with Constance, poked his head around the door to look across the hallway into the archway of the living-room. “What?”

“Why has our sky plus box been set to record a load of stuff from the porn channels?”

Aramis gasped his innocent. “I don't know. D'Artagnan knows how to record things as well you know.”

Porthos growled back his disbelief. “I don't think 'Man on man outdoor action' and 'Sun, sex and spanking' are really d'Artagnan's thing.”

“Don't be so judgmental,” Aramis tutted and then left Porthos to it in order to return back to the kitchen where he could continue his conversation with Constance. “Do you want me to go and hunt him down and kill him?” Aramis asked like it was something he had done plenty of times which, in truth, it was.

Constance had just finally told Aramis what had happened between Athos and her brother and Aramis was desperately trying to control the bubbling rage he felt about it. He knew that, if he had been there, he would have done a lot more than just scare the man.

“I don't want you to do anything,” Constance admitted as she sat at the kitchen table sipping herbal tea. “It gave me the wake-up call I needed to leave but I still care about him. I hope that Athos scared him enough to knock some sense into his thick head.”

“Alright,” Aramis said, respecting Constance enough to obey her wishes as much as it frustrated him to do so. “But don't you dare go back there unless you take one of us with you.”

She smiled up at him. “Alright, I promise.” Aramis held out his arms to hold her and Constance stood up in order to step into them. Unlike d'Artagnan who had been slightly fearful of Aramis since he had gone back onto the blood, Constance wasn't afraid at all. Then again Aramis had never bitten her.

They hugged each other tightly until Porthos re-appeared in the kitchen and walked over to the fridge. “I deleted all of the porn stuff which, as it's d'Artagnan's, you won't mind.”

Aramis, who had his back turned to Porthos, frowned as he pulled away from Constance which made her chuckle. When Porthos opened the fridge and saw the blood it reminded him to glance over at the clock.

“Is it feeding time at the zoo?” he asked which made Aramis turn around and look at the clock with him.

“No, we'll be alright for another couple of hours but I will go and check and him. He has been oddly quiet this morning.”

“He's probably asleep, it's the daytime,” Constance pointed out. “Adjusting to his new vampire schedule already. Guys, I've been thinking...do you think we should have a party tonight? This might be our last night with Athos, we should make it special.”

“Isn't little D working?” Aramis asked.

“Yes but he'll be back by about ten. He can join in then.”

The other two thought about it and both, whilst it brought them great sadness to even think about Athos leaving, decided that it was a wonderful idea. Aramis' chest continued to feel heavy though as he made his way up to the top of the house to check on his new padawan. Rochefort was indeed asleep, looking uncomfortable as he slept sitting up in the chair. Aramis could sympathise. He went over quietly and sat down on the wooden floor panels in order to watch him.

\---------------------------------

“I do not wish to have a party.”

“Well it's not about what you wish, Athos,” Constance said as she busied herself in the kitchen making cupcakes. “It's about what the boys need and what I need. We need to say goodbye.”

“None of us can even be certain that I will pass to the afterlife tomorrow,” Athos pointed out as he stood there watching her slip on a pair of oven gloves.

“I know,” Constance said, trying to distract herself from tears by shoving another load of cakes into the oven. “But we all need to say goodbye, just in case.”

Athos stood there. After his conversation with d'Artagnan he was a little uncertain about what he even wanted to do. He needed time to think in silence and contemplate matters but Constance didn't seem to be giving him that option.

“Come and help me decorate some cupcakes,” Constance suggested.

“I wouldn't know how to decorate cupcakes."

“Come here!” She yelled and Athos, as obediently as always, went over and stood beside her. She passed him the cool cupcakes which she had already iced.

“Are you scared of what might happen tomorrow?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he lied. She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze like she knew the truth.

 


	33. You know nothing, Jon Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I just want to say a big thank you once again for all the comments and kudos!! When I started this story I really didn't know what I was doing but yet here we are, chapter 33, and there's still a few more chapters to go...it seems bonkers. I've also had a rough few weeks having to have a skin graft on my face and what not and, during this time, the Musketeer fandom has been a real escapism for me. Reading all of the good stories which are around at the moment and writing this story has really cheered me up. Never underestimate the power of fanfiction. So yes, thanks for reading, thanks for commenting, thanks for writing stories and now...on with the show...]
> 
>   
> Made by Isalen

“So what is the plan for tomorrow?” Rochefort asked when he was finally awake after a long exhausted doze. He claimed to be going stir-crazy in the chair but Aramis couldn't really notice the difference.

“Well you tell us. We're meeting her at Musée d'Orsay right? Well you are. You meet her, get her somewhere where you can be alone, then give her the details of some made-up bloke who is blackmailing you. Then, Athos and I will appear and Athos can kill her.”

Rochefort raised his eyebrow. He assumed that, judging by all of the questions the ghost had been asking about Milady, Athos was the ghost. “And how is Athos going to kill her? She's a witch. Witches don't die easily.”

“No...well I...errr....we haven't thought about that,” Aramis admitted sheepishly as he sat on the floor.

“It sounds like you haven't thought about it much at all.”

“We have!” Aramis protested fiercely, frowning over at the new vampire. But then he sighed and sunk into himself a little which seemed to make Rochefort laugh.

“You will have to set fire to her. Take some petrol with you. It's not like you'll ever be caught, neither of you will appear on any of the security cameras.”

“That's true,” Aramis mused, reluctantly grateful for Rochefort's help on the matter.

“The three of us can surrounded her and make sure that she can't put the fire out. It will be brutal to watch but then you've probably seen a lot worse.”

Aramis nodded slowly, he had seen worse but it wasn't him witnessing the event which he was worried about, it was Athos. Athos had tried to kill her once already and then changed his mind. Would he do the same thing this time? Still, Aramis was determined to give the ghost a chance to have a choice, even if that meant Athos might back out at the last minute.

“Thank you, Aramis,” Rochefort said, tugging Aramis from his private thoughts.

“What for?” Aramis asked, even though he wasn't entirely certain he wanted to know.

“For bringing me to life.”

Aramis snorted. “I didn't bring you to life, Rochefort, I killed you.”

“No, I've never felt more alive.”

“That's just your vampire senses,” Aramis explained. “Being a vampire isn't the bees knees you know. It's like...living with an all consuming eating disorder that controls every aspect of your life.” Aramis rubbed his thumb against his temple. He had a feeling that Rochefort was too much of a fruitcake to ever really understand the reality of what had happened to him.

“I want to feed on everything and make love to everyone and fly,” Rochefort said which confirmed Aramis' theory.

In fact Aramis just rolled his eyes. “Well, as soon as tomorrow is over and done with, fly off as many buildings as you like,” Aramis encouraged. “Rochefort...” Aramis clambered up onto his feet and stepped closer to the chair, he ran his fingers through Rochefort's hair and pulled his head back so he could look down at the young vampire seriously. “...being a vampire means you're immortal but that doesn't make you invincible.”

Rochefort wasn't listening though, he was looking up at Aramis and licking his bottom lip with desire, wanting to be kissed, his eyes pleading which just made Aramis sigh and let go of his hair.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” Aramis muttered and began to walk out of the attic.

“Jon who?” he heard Rochefort ask as he disappeared down the steps.

\---------------------------------

“I'm in charge of the music! I'm in charge! Go away, you big beast, or I'll bite you.”

“Aramis!” Constance snapped but Porthos just chuckled, he was getting used to the blood-induced insults from his boyfriend and moved away from the ipad to let Aramis select the songs for the party. Athos was already in the living-room, sitting in his chair, not really in the party spirit but making an effort by at least being in the same room. Constance brought another plate of goodies over to the coffee table and surveyed her party delights proudly.

“You know this is really nice. Not many people get the chance to have a party before someone dies which...sounds really weird actually...” She made a face and disappeared off into the kitchen. Porthos watched her go and then turned to look at Athos.

“You...okay?” the werewolf asked. Athos just shrugged. Porthos moved over to the sofa and sat himself down onto it, facing the ghost.

“Did Ninon tell you how it happens?”

Athos nodded once. “She said there would be a door. I don't know much more than that.”

Aramis, who was still standing by the bookcase looking at his ipad, slowly turned around to join the conversation. “It's not scary you know. I've seen it happen. People...well they seem to want to walk through it. It's like when you've had a rotten day and you get to your front door and you're just so relieved to be home. I think it's like that.”

Athos nodded again. Aramis went over to sit beside Porthos before he continued. “Athos...you don't have to do this. We can forget about the whole thing right here and now if you want us to.”

“I need to do it,” Athos admitted, it was the conclusion he had come to after thinking about his conversation with d'Artagnan for a long time. “I need to see her and I appreciate your offer to help.”

“Part of me doesn't want to,” Aramis said honestly, leaning a little closer to the werewolf for support. “Part of me wants to tie you to that chair and stop you but, we've come this far and it is _your_ choice...and you'd just phase out of the chair anyway.”

The side of Athos' mouth curled up just a little into a small smile. “You've all been so kind to me. From the moment you found me and said I could live with you right up until now. Everything you've all done for me. Even the crazy things you've done, Aramis, I know why you did them. Thank you. Both of you.” Then, noticing Constance had come back into the room and was standing in the doorway holding a jug of punch, he corrected his statement to... “All of you.”

Constance promptly dropped the jug as she put her hands over her face and started to cry.

\-------------------------------

“I thought he'd change his mind,” d'Artagnan whispered as he lay on his bed with Constance the following afternoon. They were still both quite tired and hungover after the party where they had all talked and shared stories well into the early hours of the morning. “I actually thought, if I told him that I didn't want him to kill her, then he wouldn't do it.”

Constance looked at her boyfriend sadly. “I know. I was hoping he'd not do it as well. But he seems very determined.”

“I'm not sure I can go downstairs. I'm not sure I can say goodbye,” d'Artagnan admitted and Constance brushed some of his hair back behind his ear. It was a habit she was starting to enjoy.

“I'm not sure I can either. Maybe we should just stay here and pretend it isn't happening. I guess we said goodbye to him last night anyway.”

“I'm scared I'll hold onto him and not be-able to let go.”

Constance nodded, tears welling up in her eyes again. “I would as well. He'd be squashed between us and you know how much he'd hate that.”

D'Artagnan lunged forward and gripped onto Constance tightly and she did the same in return.

In Aramis' bedroom a similar situation was happening. Both Aramis and Porthos were lying on the bed deep in conversation. They were both on their backs with Aramis snuggled up against Porthos' side.

“It'll be weird, you know? Just the four of us. I kinda got used to it being five,” Porthos admitted.

“I know. But none of us can ever understand what it's like to live as a ghost. If he wants to get his ending and leave...we have to let him.”

Porthos nodded but he really didn't want to 'let him'. “You've being very calm about this,” Porthos noted, lifting his head up off the cushion to glance down at the vampire. He had expected Aramis to be the emotional one considering he knew that Aramis had feelings for the ghost.

“I've lived for a very long time and I've lost a lot of people, Porthos,” Aramis admitted. “You sort of...learn how to let go. Even if it breaks your heart. That's why I'm glad that you and d'Artagnan aren't coming. I don't want you to have to see it happen.”

“I want to come,” Porthos dropped his head back down. “I'm terrified you'll be caught up in it somehow and get hurt.”

“I won't,” Aramis assured him, twisting his head on Porthos' comfortable shoulder to smile up at him. “I'll be alright. I need to be there but I won't get hurt. Promise me you won't come?”

“I...” Porthos reached out and stroked Aramis' cheek. “...fine. But I'll be right here for you when you get back. I know you like him and I don't mind if you need to cry and do whatever you need to do. I'll support you through every step of it.”

“Porthos, I'll be tied up in the bloody chair when I get back,” Aramis pointed out and began to pout. He was not looking forward to it at all.

“Oh yeah,” Porthos said. For a brief blissful moment he had forgotten about the whole chair business. He couldn't bare the thought of Aramis sitting in that chair again, shivering and crying. Still, he knew that it had to be done. “But, even so, I love you and I'm always here for you, okay?”

“Even when I fuck up?”

“Especially when you fuck up.”

Aramis chuckled and rolled onto his stomach, crawling onto Porthos and looking down at him affectionately. “I know. And that's why I love you even though every instinct inside of me has been telling me to kill you these past couple of days.”

“Thank you for ignoring them,” Porthos said with a smile and closed his eyes when Aramis leaned down for a kiss. Porthos then proceeded to moan happily against Aramis' mouth until the vampire pulled away and Porthos dropped his head onto the pillow to sigh.

“I suppose I need to go and say goodbye to him.”

Aramis nodded silently and rolled off the werewolf. Porthos got up and found Athos downstairs in the living-room, placing all of his books back onto the bookshelf which never actually had books on it before Athos had moved in.

“Hey,” Porthos said to get his attention. Athos turned his head.

“Hello, Porthos,” he said back which made Porthos smile. Athos was always far more posh and formal than the rest of them, he was going to miss that.

“I don't even know what to say to you, mate,” Porthos admitted honestly as he lingered in the doorway. “But I wanted to say something before you both left. I just...I just don't know what words to use.”

Athos nodded and finished slipping one of his history books onto the shelf before lowering his arm.

“Just make sure you look after Aramis, d'Artagnan and Constance.”

“You know I will,” Porthos promised. “You bloody know I will.”

Suddenly Porthos couldn't help it; he walked right over to Athos and wrapped his arms around the ghost, squeezing him tightly.

“I'm really going to miss you, mate. I really am. You were bloody brilliant. I'll never forget how you came for us when we were kidnapped by Bonnaire and saved us and I'll never forget how you helped me deal with Marsac and how you looked after Aramis during all those full-moons. I never thanked you for all that stuff so thank you.” Porthos' voice was going a little funny as he started to get choked up. “I kinda never thought you'd leave. I just always assumed you'd be our resident ghost. I hate thinking that I might not ever see you again.” His bottom lip began to quiver. “I don't want to think that.” He pulled away from Athos and sniffed, turning away from the ghost in a vain attempt to hide his tears. “I wish you wouldn't do this,” he squeaked.

There was silence between the pair of them for a moment apart from the sound of Porthos sniffing.

“I know,” was what the ghost eventually said. “But I hope you also partly understand why I need to confront her.”

“Sort of. But do you have to do it right now? Like today?”

“Yes, Porthos, I do. I may not ever get the same chance again.”

Porthos stayed with his head low, sniffing like mad but letting the tears leak from his eyes and drop down onto the carpet. “Then it's goodbye I guess. I mean it might not be but I wanna say it just in case.” Finally he lifted his head and stared at the ghost. “And make sure Aramis gets back to me, okay?”

Athos gave the werewolf a firm nod. “I will, I promise.”

\---------------

Athos gave the house one final look before he walked towards the old car where Aramis was waiting in the driver's seat and Rochefort was sitting blindfolded next to him. D'Artagnan and Constance hadn't come to say goodbye to him and he understood why. In fact, in some ways, he was grateful for it. Although, just as he was turning to get into the car, someone suddenly attacked him from behind and arms were forcefully wrapped around his waist. He looked down at the arms and immediately recognised the slim olive-skinned hands. Without saying a word, d'Artagnan squeezed him tightly for at least thirty seconds then let go. Athos turned around just as the young human disappeared back into the house. Athos sighed sadly and then proceeded to get into the back of the car. Aramis twisted around to look back at him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. He had his sunglasses on even though it was January and, therefore, getting dark already. Athos assumed it was a vampire thing.

“Yes,” Athos said and sat back in the car-seat. Aramis nodded once, turned back and began to drive.

“If you do set fire to her, make sure you do it outside of the museum,” the blindfolded Rochefort said as they drove towards the city centre. “They have some wonderful paintings. It would be a real shame if...”

“Shut up, Rochefort,” Aramis suggested.

And Rochefort, obeying his master, actually did.

\----------------------------

The Musée d'Orsay was a museum on the left bank of the Seine housed in an old railway station. Aramis had been there a few times in his life but this time was very different; this time he was there with an incredibly tense ghost.

“Calm down, she'll show,” Aramis attempted to reassure the ghost who was acting like he had a bomb shoved up his arse which was set to explode at any second. Athos showed no sign that he was even listening to the vampire as he once again glanced at the doorway which led to the room where Rochefort, who they had kindly allowed to see once more, was currently enjoying examining all of the Claude Monet's. The room where Rochefort was enjoying himself was next to the stairs and lift so, if Milady was going to show, she'd come from that direction and not bump into Aramis and Athos first.

“It's not even 5'o'clock yet,” Aramis pointed out and had to mentally force himself not to reach out and give the stressed ghost a reassuring cuddle but Athos still wasn't listening, he just looked over at the doorway again.

The second the clock on the wall made it five, Athos moved and walked closer to the adjacent room so he peek around the corner and see what was going on. Aramis joined him, quite determined that Athos wasn't going to be alone through-out any of whatever he was planning to do.

Then, right on time, Aramis noticed a woman with long, dark, curly hair dressed in very tight black trousers and a white blouse approach Rochefort from behind. She said something to him which made him turn around. Once he was facing her, she immediately frowned at the blond and took a step backwards and Aramis suddenly realised that she could probably tell that Rochefort was a vampire. That was clearly what was happening because, in the quietness of the museum, they could heard Milady asking him what he had done and if he was crazy and what happened, in that order. Rochefort, in fairness, was trying to play it cool and began to tell her a story of how he was attacked. Aramis leaned against Athos' back a little to hear better and, strangely enough, the familiar chill from the ghost gave him a pleasant, comforting feeling.

Rochefort and Milady started arguing in hissed whispers which cleared the room of the old couple who looked at them sternly for making a noise before leaving and coming into where Athos and Aramis were standing. Or just Aramis would have been according to their eyes. He smiled at them but they just continued to look unhappy and walked straight past.

“Athos,” Aramis whispered once the old couple had marched right through to the next room. “What exactly are you planning to...”

Before Aramis even had the time to finish his sentence and gather the much needed information Athos moved, which almost sent Aramis stumbling forward. Athos walked right through the doorway and into the next room. Milady immediately stopped snapping at Rochefort and turned. Her eyes went wide open with shock like she had seen a ghost...which she had.

“Athos?” she gasped and twitched a little as if she was going to automatically move towards him but then she stopped herself and stood there awkwardly.

“Hello, Anne,” Athos said, calmly and clearly. Aramis followed him into the room but stood back. He didn't want to interfere. This was Athos' moment, the one he had been waiting years for.

“I...” she began. The vampire's in the room were being ignore as her shocked gaze focused solely on Athos and no-one else. “...I always wondered if you'd be a ghost. I went to your funeral but you weren't there.”

Athos just snorted, “I was there. I was in the coffin.”

“You know what I mean,” she snapped a little. “Where have you been?”

Athos appeared angry and his fingers tightened into fists as he took a single step forward towards her. “Where have I been? Is _that_ what you have to say to me after all of this time?”

It was then that she finally acknowledged the vampire's. She looked at Aramis behind Athos first and then twisted to glare back at Rochefort. “Is this a set-up?”

“A coincidence I assure you,” Rochefort responded with a bit of a smirk. Milady snorted at him before turning back to Athos.

“Are you here to kill me?” she asked, coming to that conclusion with a touch of amusements in her voice.

“Yes,” Athos admitted honestly. “Or at least that was my original plan.”

“And how are you planning to kill me exactly? All I have to do is click my fingers, cast a spell and I could stop you.” She moved, gliding a couple of steps towards a painting on the wall of yachts out at sea.

“You don't even know what I'm going to do yet,” Athos pointed out. Anne studied him for a moment, looking the ghost up and down but then an unnervingly pleasant smile appeared on her face.

“No, but I have a horrible feeling you want to talk about our marriage issues first,” she said, her words contrasting to the friendly expression she was giving him.

“Marriage issues? Is that what you call it? You murdered five people, Anne, and goodness knows how many more since then. Do you even understand the gravitas of all that you've done?”

Her mood changed within an instant and she stepped forward with a stomp of anger, glowering at the ghost. “You have no-idea the things I've done or why I've did them. You have no-idea because, like with Thomas, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me,” Athos said, as calmly as he could manage. Behind him Aramis was feeling anxious. He wanted to stand alongside Athos and be there for him but he had to let Athos do this. This was his closure, his moment, it was actually finally happening.

“I _had_ to kill those people. They knew, Athos. Do you think that witches are evil all of the time?” She said, now stepping backwards even closer to the painting until it became her backdrop. “That we fly around on broomsticks with warts on our noses casting bad spells on people? I can do good things as well. Kind things. When I was with you that's the kind of witch I was. I helped things grow on the garden, I saved people in the village who were sick. But, when you tried to kill me, when you ended it all and tried to expose me for what I was...I had to make sure everyone who knew the truth was dead.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?!” Athos barked, his temper bubbling over. “The gardener wouldn't have told anyone that you were a witch! The man who delivered the groceries to our house wasn't going to tell the police that you had magic powers!”

“Why not?”

“Because it's absurd! That's why I had to take justice myself because no-one else believed me!”

“Is that what _you_ tell yourself so _you_ can sleep at night?” she accused and it made Athos stop yelling for a second to gather himself, which he did. When he spoke again his voice was quieter.

“Anne, you murdered my little brother and, even then, I couldn't kill you. I saved you, or have you forgotten that part? Did you forget the moment I came back in to get you and you left _me_ there for dead?”

“Well you tried to kill me and I tried to kill you, so I guess that makes us even.”

“I am dead, Anne.”

“That was your choice.”

Athos had to turn away at that point before he screamed. A young teenage boy with large spectacles came into the room and looked at the two vampires and the witch then, sensing something was going on, promptly turned around and walked back out. Aramis was thankful for the fact. They didn't need any civilians getting caught up in the mess.

“I thought you were killing all of those people to get back at me,” Athos said, but he wasn't facing her. In fact he was facing Aramis if anything and Aramis was having to physically restrain himself from going over and hugging the ghost because Aramis could see quite clearly from the veins pumping on the ghost's temple that he was struggling to control his fury.

Anne just snorted at his comment. “The world doesn't always revolve around you, Olivier.”

“No,” Athos agreed. “It clearly revolves around you.”

There was finally silence in the museum room. Rochefort even went back to enjoying the paintings.

It was Anne who sighed and ran a hand down her opposite arm, smoothing out the creases in her blouse. “So you are...not killing me now? Because, if this whole meeting with Rochefort was fake, then I really need to get going. I have other things to do.”

“Yes,” Athos nodded slowly. “You must get back to your master.” He turned back just in time to see the look of confusion on Anne's face. “Isn't that who he is? Richelieu? I hear he controls you now and that you follow his orders and do his bidding. Strange because I was told that you were once the most powerful witch in Europe and vampire's were scared of you. Now, it seems, you're scared of them.”

“You don't know anything about it,” Anne said and folded her arms.

“No I don't,” Athos admitted. “That's just what I was told. I'm sure it's just gossip and completely untrue.”

“Sometimes in life, Olivier, you have to do what you have to do...”

“You would know,” Athos muttered but that didn't stop her from continuing.

“...tension is building up between the vampire's and the werewolf's again and we all have to pick sides. I've chosen mine. When things start Richelieu will need me more than I need him and that's a wonderful position to be in.” Athos hadn't realised that she had been stepping closer to him until it finally dawned on him that she was only a couple of metres away. “Now, are you going to try and kill me again, or can I go?”

Athos stood there staring at her and Aramis tensed. If Athos was going to do something, although Aramis had no-idea what, the vampire was prepared to play wing-man and helped him out. Only all Athos did was speak.

“I'm not going to kill you. Someone asked me not to.”

“Good,” Anne said abruptly and twisted around to being walking towards the exit. Rochefort was still ignoring them all, slowly strolling around the room examining the art work.

“Anne!” Athos yelled which made the witch stop in her tracks although she didn't look back. “When we were married...the person you were then...I hope she still exists and I hope you can find her again one day.”

Anne didn't say anything or even look at Athos, her head just lowered a little as he continued to walk and left the room. Aramis was so relieved when she had gone that he almost passed out. The tension seemed to immediately lift from the room.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, reaching out to touch Athos' shoulder. The ghost nodded slowly.

“I don't even feel angry,” Athos admitted quietly. “I just feel sorry for her.”

“Pity is better than anger,” Aramis pointed out. “She is a killer but killing her will only make you one as well. You've done the right thing.” Aramis wasn't entirely sure but he was well aware of the guilt he had hanging over his own head. He didn't want Athos to live with the same.

“Hmm that's interesting,” Rochefort said from across the room which made them both turn in mild annoyance. Rochefort was standing in front of a black wooden door which certainly hadn't been there a few minutes before. The door had an elegant square carving between the four gold trimmed panels and a gold curved knocker sat in the middle of the square. The door slowly creaked open which made Rochefort step away and a blinding light illuminated the room.

Aramis reached up to shield his eyes for a few seconds until the light seemed to dim and he could finally look once again. The door was wide open but all that could be seen on the other side was a dazzling yellow light.

“It's your door,” Aramis gasped and turned to Athos who was also staring at it in awe. “You got your closure after all because you confronted her. That's your door.”

Athos nodded slowly and couldn't tear his eyes away from it, like he was drawn to it somehow. Aramis though had a very different reaction; he began feeling terribly upset. He suddenly realised that he absolutely and desperately didn't want Athos to leave.

“Athos...” he managed to say but then was shocked by the way Athos began to walk slowly towards the door on the other side of the room like he was being pulled towards it in a tractor-beam. “Athos!” Aramis cried out and reached for his arm, managing to grab Athos' jumper he held onto it tightly.

“Athos, no, please, I don't want you to go. Stop, please...”

Athos was brought out of his daze and looked down at the hand on his arm confused. He then up at the person who owned the gripping hand. He tilted his head to the side at Aramis with sympathetically.

“Aramis, I...this is my ending. My time here is over.”

“No,” Aramis said and shook his head furiously, his fingers holding even more fiercely onto the fabric of Athos' clothes. “No, it doesn't have to be. You can stay. Please, please stay. The others, they're all going to leave me eventually. They'll grow old and leave me. I'll be on my own. But you can stay with me.”

Athos sighed. “I know vampires are immortal but not even they live forever, Aramis.” Finally the ghost turned, ignoring the door for a moment, to face Aramis properly. “This might be the only chance I get. If I don't take it...what if I never get the chance again and I'm stuck as a ghost forever?”

“Is that so bad?” Aramis asked, trying to sound as cheerful as he could possibly manage as he verged on falling apart.

“Yes,” Athos pointed out.

“You just can't go,” Aramis whispered. “Please, not yet. I'm not ready.”

Athos sighed, “Aramis, I'm sorry.” He tugged his arm back roughly and Aramis was forced to let go. Athos turned again and began taking steps towards to the door. Athos didn't feel afraid at all. The door felt peaceful and inviting, just as Aramis said it would. It wasn't long before he was only a few short steps away.

“Stop, wait!” Aramis protested and, unable to think of any other way to stop the ghost he decided to just come out and say what he wanted to say. “I'm in love with you!”

The words shocked Athos so much that he froze right there on the spot. After a moment of attempting to process the words he turned back to look at the vampire who was standing in the middle of the room with a stupid smile on his face.

“I'm in love with you. Desperately and hopelessly and I've never told you before because of Porthos but, fuck, if I don't tell you now I never will.” His voice sounded shaky and his body was shaking and Athos wanted to do nothing more than to hold him but the door...the door was his future and his destiny.

Athos felt glued to the spot, torn between the current world and the afterlife but then the vampire came racing towards him and, before he knew it, hands were being slapped against his cheeks and lips were being pressed against his own. Athos closed his eyes and moaned against the desperate mouth which was kissing him furiously. Aramis was rubbing his lips against Athos' so passionately that the ghost was quite certain he'd faint from lack of air if he wasn't already dead. He kissed Aramis back and fought with the tongue which was pushing inside his mouth and, before he was quite ready to part, the lips vanished and Aramis was there with a big smile on his face, panting with delight.

“I love you,” he repeated. “I love you, I love you...please don't go. Please don't leave me.”

And Athos, who was trying to ignore the door which was pulling him in the direction that he was no long certain that he wanted go in, focused solely on the vampire standing in front of him and only had one thing to say. “I won't,” he promised.

“How could you?!” Was a cry that came from no-where and, before Athos could even establish what was happening, Aramis suddenly disappeared. He had been shoved in the chest and was staggering backwards. Athos tried to reach out to grab him and stop him from falling over but it was too late, Aramis lost his footing and he was falling, right into the bright yellow light.

“Aramis!” Athos screamed just as Aramis' head disappeared and soon the rest of his body as he tumbled through the door. Athos gasped and quickly stared at the furious Rochefort who had attacked his maker. Rochefort was breathing heavily and watching as the door, which Aramis had just fallen though, began to move, creaky slowly to close.

“Nooo!” Athos cried. Aramis wasn't meant to have gone through the door, that was Athos' door and he had just decided that he wasn't even going to go through it. The door continued to swing closed and Athos only had seconds to decide what to do. He yelled in despair then ran, squeezed past the wooden door and jumped into the light after Aramis.

 


	34. You broke the system

Athos stumbled forward but somehow managed to stay on his feet and avoid the vampire who was lying on the ground in a heap. As soon as he felt steady enough he turned around back at the black door he had just jumped through only the door wasn't there, it had completely gone and, in its place, just a beige painted wall.

“No!” Athos yelled and banged his fist against the wall just to check, but it was solid and the door had completely disappeared. He lowered his head and sighed sadly just before remembering that there was still a vampire on the floor. He heard Aramis moan so Athos quickly stepped over to assist with a stretched out hand.

“Fucking Rochefort!” The vampire cursed when he was finally on his feet, brushing non-existent dust off his sore arse. “I know you don't like me swearing but fucking Rochefort!”

“Fucking Rochefort indeed,” Athos concurred. He placed a reassuring hand on the vampire's shoulder but his eyes were busy surveying their new surroundings. They were in a very long corridor which had closed doors lining both sides. Every door was a slightly different in colour and style. There must have been at least eight on the left and eight on the right and, at the other end of the corridor, another beige wall.

Aramis sighed despondently as he looked down the corridor as well. “So, this is your after-life?” he asked. He had been expecting something a little more...dramatic.

“I guess so,” Athos responded and took a few tentative steps towards the first door on the right. “I should have known that my after-life would be dull and dreary.”

Athos' attempt at humour did seem to cheer Aramis up a little.

“Yeah, well, not to worry. We'll find our way out of here.”

Aramis suddenly seemed to have a spring in his step as he marched over to Athos and the first door.

Athos looked at him slightly baffled. “Really? That's possible?”

“Oh, I have no-idea,” Aramis admitted. “But I'm going to go back to Porthos and you're going to come with me. So we'd best start opening these doors, don't you think? One of them must lead us back to the land of the living.”

Athos felt a lot less certain about the after-life being easy to escape but he was willing to go along with Aramis' misguided positivism for the time-being. So he reached for the brass handle on the first door and opened it up cautiously. Inside was a room which felt very non-threatening, in fact it was all rather familiar to Athos.

“Come on then,” he encouraged Aramis and they both went inside but left the door open, just in case.

Athos was indeed very acquainted with the room because it was his old house. They were in the De la Fere manor back in the days before it had burnt down. Seeing it proud and glorious like it was once was made Athos smile, just a little bit. But his smile was soon wiped from his face when he heard a child calling. It was a voice that he hadn't heard in a very, very long time.

“Olivier! Where are you?” The high pitch shrill of an excited child floated in. Athos gasped and froze as a little boy of about five years old bounded into the room. The short brown curls on top of his head and the familiar dimples on his face made Athos' chest tighten with shock.

“Oh there you are, Olivier,” the young boy grinned and went racing over to Athos with a piece of paper in his hand. “I drew this for you!”

Athos stood there frozen and Aramis the same, although his eyes were glued to Athos. Athos stared down at the child who had his arm out-stretched holding up the drawing. Athos slowly took it and looked. It was a child-like scribble of two colourful stick men, a couple of trees, a large house and some swings.

“The blue one is me and I'm jumping off the swing and falling into the mud,” the little boy informed him and he giggled at his own story. “Like that time I really did that and you had to rescue me because my Wellington-boot was stuck.” The boy continued to be greatly amused and doubled-over, holding his stomach as he laughed.

“I remember,” Athos said quietly, staring down at the picture and then looking over the paper down at the young child. “I remember, Thomas.”

\-----------------------------------------

“They've been gone for too long,” Porthos announced. The werewolf was pacing the carpet in the living-room.

Constance glanced over at the clock she always tried to 'accidentally' break each time she cleaned it because she hated it so much and agreed. “It has been a while but maybe Milady was late? Maybe Aramis and Athos are talking? Maybe Athos passed onto the other side and Aramis needs to be alone for a while? There are many reasons about why he's late, Porthos, let's not panic yet.”

But telling a werewolf not to panic and the werewolf actually not panicking were two very different things. Porthos continued to pace furiously and look at the clock every two minutes. D'Artagnan, who was sitting next to Constance on the sofa, decided that perhaps a distraction was in order.

“Why don't we watch some TV, Porthos?” he suggested. “Aramis will be back before we know it.”

He looked at Constance for a bit of reassurance but she just looked lost and shrugged. So d'Artagnan reached towards the coffee table and picked up the remote control. Porthos was still ignoring them, marching up and down, but d'Artagnan turned the TV on anyway. The first channel was showing a room in black and white. The room was completely empty apart from a tatty, worn, leather sofa facing the screen. D'Artagnan waited for something to happen, assuming it was some horror movie but, after a couple of minutes of staring at nothing but a tatty sofa he began to feel confused.

“This show is a bit boring,” he pointed out and changed the channel. Only the next channel was showing exactly the same thing. A black and white view of the same old leather sofa. “Eh?” D'Artagnan turned to another channel and again, the same thing. “Oh man! What's wrong with our TV?” he asked and slid off their slightly nicer sofa to crawl across the carpet and get closer to the screen. “Why is it showing this on every channel?”

“Are you sure it isn't a DVD?” Constance asked, trying to be helpful even though she wasn't even interested in watching television. She felt as nervous as Porthos did but was doing a better job of not showing it. “It looks like the start of one of Aramis' dodgy vampire porn films.”

D'Artagnan leaned forward to check the DVD player underneath the television cabinet. “No, the DVD player isn't even on. It's like we've hacked into a security camera or something.” D'Artagnan tried turning things off and on again but it was the same. Every single TV channel was showing the room with the tatty sofa. “Urgh!” He cried and dropped the remote control in frustration.

“Who wants a cup of tea?” Constance suddenly asked, standing herself up.

Porthos did at least stop pacing at the question although only to answer, “No thank you.”

“Right,” Constance said at the lack of an enthusiastic reaction. “Hot chocolate it is then.”

\-------------------------

Aramis tried to be patient and he watched quietly as Athos sat on the floor and talked to the little boy who was lying on his belly and drawing lots of pictures for his beloved big brother whom he clearly adored. In fact Aramis took the opportunity to walk across the room to look at all of the photographs which were on top of the grand piano. Each picture was in a silver or gold frame and seemed to show a very happy family portrait of two parents and two boys. Aramis smiled a little when he saw a very young Athos happily hugging his dark-haired mother who was a very beautiful woman.

“You weren't always so grumpy then,” Aramis whispered to himself with a smile and then turned to watch Athos still in conversation with his little brother on the floor. However another voice yelling from an adjacent room made Aramis jump.

“Supper will be ready in five minutes, boys! Go and wash your hands!”

Athos' head had snapped up in shock.

“Is that your mother?” Aramis asked now that he had Athos' attention.

“No,” Athos said and looked over at Aramis for the first time since they had come into the room. “That's my second nanny, Madame Rachelle.”

It was only then that Thomas acknowledged Aramis' presence. The vampire had been wondering if Thomas couldn't even see him but the way the child's eyes were now staring made him realise that he clearly could.

“Who is your friend, Olivier?” the boy asked.

“This is Aramis. He's a friend from...the village.”

Thomas grinned over at Aramis and waved. “Hello, Aramis.” Aramis attempted to smile back.

“I can't hear you going off to wash your hands!” The nanny called from the next room. Thomas gasped and immediately jumped up, inspecting his hands which were covered in pen.

“Uh-oh,” he said and raced off. “Come on, Olivier! Come and help me!”

Athos got up onto his feet but, before he could leave, Aramis stepped forward and coughed into his hand to get the ghost's attention again. Athos paused to look at him.

“Athos,” Aramis tried to sound as understanding as he could. “I know this is special for you but we can't stay here. We might only have a certain amount of time to find our way out of your after-life. Please...can we keep looking?”

Athos stared at Aramis for a moment and then turned to where Thomas had disappeared into another room but still calling for him and Athos felt torn. He never thought he'd ever see his brother again and finally he was getting his chance but...but Aramis was right and this wasn't real. Athos stumbled back a little as his gaze floated over the room. This wasn't real. The house had burnt down, he had done that himself. Madame Rachelle had left when Athos was eleven and Thomas wasn't real, Thomas was dead. None of this is real, he told himself. But Aramis, Aramis is real and Aramis wants to go home.

Athos sighed and nodded at the vampire.

“Yes, come on,” he said and walked back towards the door they had come through, the door which was still open Then, suspecting that the vampire would appreciate it, Athos held out his hand for Aramis who immediately raced over and took it, squeezing it tightly. They both walked back through the door together and were immediately back in the corridor. The corridor hadn't changed; all of the other doors still remained closed and looked the same.

“Shall I...leave this door open?” Athos asked as he turned to look back over at his shoulder.

“Yeah, if you like,” Aramis said. He didn't want to take away the chance of Athos going back to his brother, even though he wasn't entirely sure how the whole door thing worked. Surely Athos had more than a few memories? Why were there only sixteen doors? “But let's try another one,” Aramis suggested, giving Athos' hand another firm squeeze.

Athos nodded. “Aramis, I want to apologise in advance for anything you may see here. All this I suppose was meant to be private and not shared with another.”

“I know,” Aramis said with a big of a shrug. “But, Athos, you're talking to a vampire. I doubt anything in your past is as bad as mine. Come on, new door.”

They both stepped together, still holding hands to the next door on the right-hand side. Aramis felt as nervous as Athos did as he reached for a door-handle but it wouldn't turn. “That's odd,” Aramis pointed out. “It's locked.”

Athos frowned and, when Aramis let go, he reached out and tried the handle which, this time, moved.

“I must have to open the doors myself,” he pointed out. “They are my memories after all.” Aramis nodded and moved out of the way so Athos could open it and the sight they saw made Aramis want to cheer for joy. It was Athos' bedroom! It was home! Aramis let go of Athos' hand and immediately jumped in. The room was quite dark but it was unmistakeably Athos' room.

“We did it! We're back already!” Aramis pointed out as Athos followed him inside but then Aramis turned and stare at the open door and felt confused. “How do we get out of your bedroom when the door leads back to the corridor?”

Athos shrugged. “We could close it from in here and open it again? See if that works?”

“Oh yes,” Aramis said and grinned, so pleased to be back home. He reached for the handle to do so when a voice spoke behind them.

“Hello, Athos. Hello, Aramis.”

Athos quickly turned and saw a sight which made him so happy that he actually felt a little dizzy. Ninon was sitting on his bed, with no clothes on but a smile on her face. Aramis, however, was less than pleased to see her. He sighed deeply and loudly as he looked at the naked ghost.

“Fuck, we're not home. This is your memory of your sex night!” he realised.

\------------------------------

Constance managed to get the other two to drink hot chocolate but they all sat in silence as they did so and Porthos still hadn't stopped looking at the clock. Once his mug was empty his patience had finally run out. The others had been gone for almost four hours; something had gone wrong.

“You coming with me?” he asked them both as he stood up from the kitchen table. D'Artagnan glanced over at Constance before standing up himself.

“Of course but, Constance, you should stay here just in case one of them does re-appear. Phone me if that happens.” Constance opened her mouth to protest but she quickly realised that d'Artagnan was right. They couldn't all go off looking just in case someone did suddenly come back home. “And call Treville if anything happens and you need someone here quickly.”

Constance nodded at her instructions and stood up to kiss d'Artagnan on the cheek.

“I hope you find them,” she said and meant it with all of her heart.

\-----------------------------

Ninon had wrapped a blue blanket around herself to cover up her nakedness, by request from Athos, Aramis wasn't as bothered. Soon they were both sitting either side of her on the bed and explaining the situation. Anyone else they wouldn't have but this was Ninon and Ninon understood.

“You broke the system,” she told Aramis who was leaning back against the wall starting to look emotionally exhausted.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I didn't even know that was possible.”

“Oh yes,” she told him. “If you were human you wouldn't have been-able to come into Athos' after-life but you're not human you're already dead so, therefore, it was possible.”

“But how do we get him out?” Athos asked. He wanted out as well but he was far more concerned about getting Aramis back to the others. This wasn't even his after-life after all, Aramis shouldn't have even come through the door.

Ninon went quiet and shook her head, looking down at the floor for a moment. Athos suddenly feared the worst but allowed her the time and space to think.

“It's almost impossible,” she pointed out eventually. “I'm sorry to break that news to you but it is. Once people are in the after-life, they don't get out. But...you broke the rules and they don't like people breaking the rules so they will give you a chance. Only it's complicated.”

“I love complicated,” Aramis muttered sarcastically. Ninon reached out and patted his leg in sympathy but it was Athos that she turned to.

“There will be a door to the other world somewhere in your after-life but, in order for Aramis to leave, someone else will have to come in.”

“W-what?” Athos stuttered, happy that they had a chance to escape but not quite understanding what she meant.

“And what if Athos and I both want to leave?” Aramis asked because he wasn't planning on going anywhere without Athos.

“You both can but you just can't open it from this side, someone has to come through from the other side into your after-life,” Ninon pointed out, now looking at the vampire. “The chances of that happening are...well...I'm sorry, Aramis.”

She squeezed his leg a little bit harder and watched as he lowered his head in defeat. Athos, however, needed further details.

“So there will be a door to the living world somewhere here? And what will it look like to the living world?”

“Like the door you saw,” Ninon explained. “It'll be a random door that will just appear and it'll have a bright light behind it but, Athos, it could be anywhere you've ever been to at one stage in your life and you can't step out of it unless someone else steps into it.”

“So, we have to find this door and then stand there for possibly decades just in case someone gets curious and walks through it?”

“Pretty much,” Ninon admitted and it clearly pained her to admit it. “Although they might be kind and give you a way to communicate with the other world. I've seen that happen before.”

“Ninon,” Athos leaned forward towards her a little. He had so many questions that it was driving him mad. “Who are _they_?”

“That doesn't matter,” she said and peeked at the exhausted vampire before turning back. “Even in the after-life Aramis can get tired and need sleep. Why don't you two rest? We can try and figure something out in a couple of hours.”

“Ninon,” Athos wasn't finished with his questions yet. “Can you leave this room with us?”

Ninon shook her head at him. “No. Those in your memory have to stay in the memory. Only you and Aramis can move between rooms. If you want to keep the memory then leave the door open. As soon as you close a door, it moves onto another memory. You might be-able to get the same memory back eventually but you'll probably have to close and open a lot of doors to find it again.”

Athos nodded, understanding. Then he leaned forward to look at Aramis on the other side of Ninon. The vampire was leaning heavily against the wall and had his eyes closed. Athos got up off the bed and went to Aramis. Ninon moved off the bed herself to let Athos gently lie Aramis down. The vampire grumbled and protested a little but he was obviously exhausted and collapsed onto his side.

“Rest, Aramis,” Athos said tenderly, stroking back some of Aramis' curls away from his face. “We can sort things out when you wake up.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on Aramis' forehead which at least made the vampire smile before eventually succumbed to sleep.

“Would you like a blanket?” Ninon asked and Athos turned just in time to see her drop the blue blanket to the floor.

\------------------------------

The museum was closed which made Porthos angrily hammer against the door a few times before giving up and stepping backwards. They had found Porthos' car, which Aramis had borrowed, in the car-park and that had just made Porthos even more stressed.

“We'll have to break in,” he told the human.

“Porthos, I doubt they're still in there,” d'Artagnan pointed out. He was slightly nervous about the breaking the law situation even though he wanted to find Aramis and Athos as much as Porthos did. “They were meant to meet her hours ago.”

“Fuck, something must have happened,” Porthos said, his bottom lip quivering. “Something happened. I bet she...she...” He couldn't say the words and d'Artagnan didn't blame him.

“Aramis is fine,” d'Artagnan said in an attempt to be reassuring. “He's fine. Athos wouldn't have let anything happen to him. Them both being gone is a good sign because she couldn't have killed Athos and he wouldn't have gone into the after-life unless he'd killed her. So...yeah...I think that means they're okay.”

“No it doesn't,” Porthos pointed out, already seeing many flaws in d'Artagnan's theory. “What if she killed Aramis before Athos killed her? Then Athos killed her and went into his after-life?”

D'Artagnan paused for a moment and realised that was quite probable but, still... “There are many possible theories,” he pointed out to the upset werewolf. “There is, however, one person apart from those three who might know what happened.”

“Who?” Porthos asked, not following.

“Where's Rochefort?”

\-----------------------------

Athos sat on the carpet next to Ninon with their backs against the wall as they watched Aramis sleep over on the bed. Ninon had the blanket around her again after Athos assured her that Aramis was comfortable enough.

“I promised Porthos that I'd make sure he got home,” Athos whispered quietly. “I failed.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Ninon reassured him. “You didn't know the other vampire was going to push him through.”

“No, but Aramis shouldn't have even been there. Everything which has gone wrong over the past few months has all been because of me.”

“Oh don't be ridiculous,” Ninon told him off. “It's a lot more complicated than that and you know it. The others wouldn't have even known about your ex-wife if d'Artagnan hadn't turned up and the werewolves being kidnapped wasn't your fault. You really don't have to feel responsible for everything which has ever happened to anyone, you know. But I know why you feel that way...” she turned her head to look to him. “...you love them.”

Athos paused for a moment and felt slightly embarrassed by her words, however true they were. “I do care for them,” he admitted which, for him, was quite something. Ninon smiled and reached out from the blanket to stroke his arm, trying to be of some comfort.

“I'm sorry I had to leave you,” she said, almost so quietly that he only just caught it. He tried to look at her.

“Where did you go?” he asked curiously.

“I only remember right up until this moment in your memory, so I'm not sure but I just thought I should apologise anyway.”

It made him snort and smile a little. Ninon had a way of making him smile. “Will Aramis need blood in the after-life?”

Ninon watched the dozing vampire for a moment and then actually appeared puzzled. “I actually have no-idea. But your ex-wife is bound to behind one of those doors if you need a victim.”

Athos actually couldn't quite believe Ninon had said such a thing and he turned to stare as her as her face moved sideways to look at him and she had a bit of a cheeky glint in her eye. It made Athos smile again.

“When you left I...missed you,” he found himself saying, more to his own surprise than anything. He hadn't meant to say it, it just sort of came out. But it made Ninon grin before she rested her head down against his shoulder.

“Oh, Athos, I'm so sorry. I wish I hadn't left you.”

“It's okay,” Athos said, wanting to reassure her. He wanted to tell her that he had missed her so she would feel happy not guilty.

“But things seem to have moved on for you,” she pointed out. “Are you and Aramis...?”

“No...yes...it's very recent,” Athos pointed out and immediately felt embarrassed. Thanks to Rochefort he'd hardly had the time to think about Aramis' acclamation of love and the kiss.

“It's lovely,” Ninon reassured him, her head still resting on his shoulder and her hand holding onto his arm. “But vampire's are hard-work so be careful, okay?”

“Don't I already know it?” Athos mumbled but did so with some affection as he watched Aramis sleeping on the bed.

\--------------------------------

“You know how we're always having to clean up after Aramis' bad ideas? This is worse!” D'Artagnan pointed out, his arms flying up in the air.

“How else are we going to find out what happened to them?” Porthos asked as they sat in his car the following morning, looking at the gate which led to Rochefort's house. Porthos had rescued his car from the museum car-park during the night after finding the spare key. “Anyway he might not even be here but it's worth a try. None of us have any idea where the Paris coven is. Dammit, I should have asked Aramis where the coven was based. I mean how many years have I known him and I never even asked?”

“Well you didn't need to know,” Constance, who was sitting in the passenger seat, informed the werewolf. “Only Athos and Ninon went there before and I never thought about asking them where it was either.”

“Then let's hope Rochefort went home to pack first,” Porthos pointed out and, with a sign, turned off the engine.

“So we're just going to walk up to his house? Two humans and a werewolf and what? Ask him what happened?” D'Artagnan said, sounding very unconvinced by the current plan of action. “Porthos, he's a nutter, he'll try and kill us.”

“Let him try,” Porthos growled and opened up the car door, getting out. Constance looked over her shoulder at d'Artagnan and shrugged. D'Artagnan sighed but got out of the car to go after the big werewolf, Constance quickly followed.

“You should have stayed at home,” d'Artagnan said to her as they followed Porthos up to the gates.

“I left the house phone in the middle of the kitchen table with a note telling them to call us if they turn up. It's more important that I'm here with you two. You might need all the help you can get.”

D'Artagnan smiled at her and reached out to hold onto her hand as they caught up with Porthos who was examining the iron gate which weren't moving an inch.

“There must be a way in,” Porthos mused and began walking along the wall.

A few minutes later d'Artagnan was clinging to the side of the wall and Porthos was shoving him in the arse to get the human over it.

“Fuck you both,” d'Artagnan was muttering before groaning and trying to heave himself up.

“Come on, d'Artagnan. Don't you care about Athos and Aramis?” Porthos encouraged and, when the lad had pulled himself up a little, Porthos tried to assist by holding onto his feet and giving him more of a shove.

“You know I do! Don't guilt-trip me!” With one last load groan, d'Artagnan managed to tug himself up onto the edge of the stone wall which he promptly straddled and sat there panting, trying to get his breath back. He looked over the other side and saw nothing but grass and bushes. “I reckon I could just jump down without breaking too much,” he informed the other two on the other side. “But how on earth I'm going to find the gate controls? Can't you both just climb over as well?”

Porthos looked at Constance and Constance looked at Porthos.

“I could push Constance up,” Porthos pointed out. “But I don't know how I'm going to get up there, mate. You two won't be-able to lift me.”

D'Artagnan sighed. “Alright, alright. I'll go and open the gate. But, if this gets me killed, I'm going to take it very personally.”

“Don't say things like that,” Constance pointed out, her bottom lip wobbling which immediately made d'Artagnan feel bad.

“Sorry, I love you,” he said and then jumped off the wall. Constance was left grinning from ear-to-ear.

“What?” Porthos asked her, confused by her sudden beam.

“He hasn't ever said that to me before,” she pointed out.

 


	35. Why are a bunch of children beating you up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings - Bullying and homophobic remarks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I'm flying through this now! I might be-able to post the last few chapters up over the next couple of weeks. Not that the end will necessarily be the end for good, for reasons you'll discover towards the end. I may well do a part two one day.]
> 
>   
> Made by Isalen

“Aramis,” Athos said softly as he knelt down beside his own bed stroking Aramis' hair to wake him up. The vampire was finally stirring after sleeping for a couple of hours, or at least Athos suspected it had been that long, time didn't seem to be relevant in the after-life. Aramis groaned and shifted a little on the bed before opening his eyes to look at Athos drearily and, as if forgetting about their situation for a moment, he smiled at the ghost.

“Hey, Athos,” he said and sighed with contentment as he rolled onto his back and stretched out his legs.

“Hello, Aramis,” Athos responded back. “We need to keep looking,” he pointed out.

Whilst he suspected that their attempt at escape would be futile, he knew that they had to look for a way out, for Aramis' sake, at least for a while. The words did seem to bring the vampire back to reality and he frowned up at the ceiling before turning his head to look at Athos. It was then that Athos had a sudden urge to do something which he'd always held back from before. He leaned forward and kissed the frowning face. Aramis' lips seemed to soften as he kissed Athos back. Their mouths moved in synchronisation for a blissful moment until Athos pulled back to discover that Aramis was smiling.

“Thank you,” the vampire said. Athos wasn't sure what he was being thanked for but he was glad that he had made Aramis smile. The vampire sat up and stretched out his arms a little with a intake of breath, then noticed Ninon who was still sitting on the floor smiling over at him.

“I hope you both had some fun whilst I was asleep,” Aramis commented which made Ninon chuckle and Athos blush, wondering what sort of 'fun' the vampire meant then deciding that he didn't want to know.

“We'll leave this door open,” Athos told Ninon as he got up off the floor.

“You can't keep every door you come across open, Athos,” Ninon pointed out. “You'll have to close a few.”

“I am sure I will want to close plenty,” Athos pointed out, rather dreading what might be behind some of them. “But it will be helpful to have you around for questions. So we'll keep this one open.”

“I'm glad I'm 'helpful',” she teased which it made Aramis automatically want to reassure her because he knew the comment would be lost on the ghost.

“What Athos means is that he likes you and he'll want to visit you again,” Aramis explained as he got off the bed, giving Athos a pointed nudge with his elbow. Athos stumbled to the side a little, rubbing his sore arm where the elbow had poked him before looking at Aramis confused as to what he had done wrong, therefore proving the vampire right.

“Come on, Athos, we need to keep opening doors until we find the way out.”

“I'll just wait here then,” Ninon said, waving them off.

Aramis nodded and followed Athos stiffly back out into the corridor which seemed even less inviting and friendly without the comfort of Ninon being around. Aramis let out a loud sigh and, leaving the second door open, they moved to the next one.

“You are aware that this could take us an incredibly long time?” Athos pointed out. “And, even if we do find the door, how do we get someone to walk through it on the other side?”

“Athos, I know,” Aramis interrupted. “But I'm not going to stop trying. I can't.”

Athos, understanding, nodded and they opened the next door and stepped inside. They were soon standing outside on a parade ground. The sun was beating down so strongly that Aramis' eyes hurt and he had to squint. Soldiers in crisp, ironed uniforms were walking around busy with clipboards and tasks to do. One of them nodded at Athos and called him 'sir' before continuing on.

“This is my army years,” Athos pointed out to the ghost. “We don't need to stay here. Let's go back into the corridor.”

So they did, dismissing that memory quickly, which made Aramis assume that it wasn't a memory Athos wanted to linger on, and they closed the door.

“Let's try one on the other side,” Aramis suggested. Not that he believed it probably made much of a difference which side they picked from but they hadn't opened any of the doors on the left-hand side yet. Aramis picked his favourite door; it had a gold lion engraving and secretly reminded him a little of Narnia. He let Athos open it up and, inside, was a bare room with nothing but a tatty brown leather sofa.

“That's strange,” Athos noted as they both walked inside. The room was completely empty apart from the sofa and a TV screen which was attached to the plain grey wall. “I have no memory of this room.”

Aramis looked around confused but then gasped when he noticed what was on the TV. “That's our house!” he said and stumbled closer. “That's our living-room, look!”

Indeed on the screen was the living-room; the giant sofa, the coffee table, the window with the large curtains and a pile of magazines which Aramis had always insisted belonged to Constance. No-one was in the room, it was empty but it was undoubtedly home.

“How strange,” Athos mused as Aramis reached out to touch the screen with his fingers.

“It's like...we're looking though the TV. Look, see, this is the angle where the TV would be. I don't understand.”

Neither did Athos but the room was interesting enough to leave the door open.

\------------------------------

D'Artagnan's heart was pounding furiously as he carefully made his way over to the large house which he had been told belonged to Rochefort. D'Artagnan was absolutely clueless about how to break into the place but eventually decided to see if he could find an open window. So he began to walk around the house, looking up to see if he could spot any windows which had been left open wide enough for a man to climb inside. He jumped a mile when he heard a voice.

“Can I help you?”

D'Artagnan's attention immediately turned to an old man who was wearing green gardening gloves and getting up from his position of kneeling down beside some flower-beds.

“I...umm...” d'Artagnan knew that he had to think quickly before the man called the police. “I was wondering if Rochefort was in?” he asked, at least being honest.

The old man with the white hair eyed him up suspiciously. “Perhaps you could try ringing the front door bell.”

“Ah,” d'Artagnan found himself laughing nervously. “Yes, good idea. Sorry to disturb you.” He turned and was about to pretend to walk back around the front of the house when he paused to look back at the old man. “Why are you planting in winter?” he asked curiously.

“Oh I'm not,” the old man informed him when he got back down onto his knees. “I'm just pulling out some weeds. There's no point in doing it all in spring, you might as well do bits as you go along.”

D'Artagnan smiled. His father had been a gardener so he liked talking about gardens. “You don't do this all yourself though, do you?” he asked, looking around at the vast expanse of Rochefort's estate. “It's huge.”

“No,” the old man shook his head. “There are two gardeners but they don't come as often in the winter and I like tinkering around outside when I have the time to do so.”

“You work for Rochefort?”

“Yes, I suppose I do. You could call me his butler.”

“Oh,” d'Artagnan said. You must be bonkers, he thought in his head but he managed to come out with a slightly more polite... “That must be challenging.”

The old man chuckled at the statement. “It can be at times.”

Now that d'Artagnan had stuck up a friendly conversation with the butler he thought that he could risk asking a couple of further questions. “Is Rochefort even home?”

“I don't believe so,” the butler said, reaching forward to pull out some weeds. “He hasn't been home for a couple of days.”

No, d'Artagnan thought, because we had him tied-up in our attic. “Ah well, nevermind then. I'm sorry but...how do I get out? I sort of climbed over the wall.”

The butler, as if not thinking anything of the young man's strange behaviour, knelt up and pointed over to the gate. “There's a green button just on the corner of the wall beside the gate so you can get out without needing to be let out. Right there on the right, you'll see it.”

“Thank you,” d'Artagnan said and smiled at the old man who had gone back to his weeding before heading back over to the gate and finding the button easily enough. The large iron gates open up with a bit of a creak and d'Artagnan discovered the other two were standing expectantly outside.

“He's not there” d'Artagnan pointed out. “His butler hasn't been him in a couple of days.”

“Dammit!” Porthos cried in frustration. “Then we need to try plan B.”

“Which is?” d'Artagnan asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Flea might know where the Paris coven is.”

“And going to the coven is a better idea than this, how?!” d'Artagnan asked as he raced off after Porthos who was already strolling back to the car and pulling out his phone.

\--------------------------------

“This is useless!” Aramis cried. They've been through three more doors and had visited Athos' university, his parent's holiday home and Aramis had briefly met Athos' first horse.

“I know, I'm sorry,” Athos said, giving Aramis a pat on the back as they found themselves back out into the corridor again. Athos was feeling quite emotionally drained. Visiting his past wasn't an easy experience but he felt more sorry for Aramis; these weren't even his memories, this wasn't his after-life, he shouldn't even be there. “Let's try a couple more than we'll go back to Ninon for a while.”

Aramis nodded, accepting the idea as a good suggestion. But he also somehow managed to stand up straight as they opened another door and, this time, Aramis quickly cheered up.

“Home!” he cried. Athos was more hesitant. The last time they thought they were back home it had just been a memory of Ninon.

“Aramis, this won't be...” Athos tried to warn him but the vampire was already gone and had disappeared into the room. “Aramis,” he hissed but followed him in anyway because he had to. They were home. Or at least they were back in the house and back in the familiar hallway. Aramis had already darted into the living-room and his cry of 'Porthos!' made Athos really panic. He turned the corner just in time to see Aramis flinging himself onto the couch and into Porthos' arms. The werewolf looked confused but he was chuckling as he held the vampire closely.

“What are you doing? Didn't you just go out to the Chinese take-away?”

“I did,” Aramis mumbled against Porthos' chest. “But I missed you too much.”

Porthos laughed again as he looked up at Athos. Athos didn't like this, this wasn't going to end well at all. It wasn't the real Porthos, just a memory of Porthos.

“Hi, Athos. Is your room okay?” Porthos asked with his arms full of vampire. Athos paused for a moment and tried to remember why Porthos would be asking such a thing. “We can put more furniture into it if you like? Just tell us what you need.”

Ah, Athos realised, he'd just moved in. It must have been the week when they had found him and invited him to live with them.

“It's fine,” Athos assured the werewolf quickly then he heard sobs coming from the vampire.

“Hey,” Porthos said, sounding concerned as he tried to lift Aramis' head up to look at him. “What's the matter?”

Aramis did lift his head, tears rolling from his eyes. “I'm just so happy to see you,” he sniffed and started leaning forward.

“Aramis, don't!” Athos cried but it was too late, Aramis had firmly planted his lips against Porthos' and was kissing the life out of him. Porthos looked stunned but he didn't push Aramis away. In fact he kissed Aramis back. Athos stood there feeling awkward, wondering how on earth the werewolf would react to suddenly being kissed by his friend, the vampire, long before they were actually lovers but Porthos was just closing his eyes and enjoying it so Athos waited for the inevitable shock to sink in. It only did when Aramis pulled away and then lunged at Porthos again, burying his face into Porthos' shoulder. Porthos looked over at Athos in shock. Athos didn't know what to say to him, so he stepped forward to speak to the upset vampire instead.

“Aramis, this isn't...we have to keep looking. We can't stay here,” he pointed out. The whine from the vampire at least let Athos know that he was listening. “We need to go.”

“No,” Aramis mumbled and moved only to grip onto Porthos' shirt.

“Aramis...” Athos came closer and tentatively touched the vampire's back.

“What's going on?” Porthos asked, trying to look between the two of them confused.

“Nothing,” Athos promised, attempting to reassure the memory version of Porthos that he shouldn't worry. “It's just that Aramis _really_ wanted Chinese so I need to stop him from getting distracted and take him there.”

Porthos was clearly all kinds of confused at the sudden kiss and the vampire being in tears and now the strange urgency to get Chinese. But Aramis eventually moved and prised himself from Porthos, still crying as he stumbled up onto his feet and Athos steadied him by holding him around the waist.

“We'll be back,” Athos told Porthos who continued to sit there looking baffled as Athos almost dragged Aramis out of the living-room, down the hallway and out of the door.

Once they were back out into the corridor he accidentally dropped the vampire who sunk to the floor and leaned back against the wall, face falling into his hands as he continued to cry. Athos promptly knelt down next to him and wrapped his arms around him. Aramis leaned sideways into the embrace.

“I'll get you back to the real version of him,” Athos whispered into his ear and kissed the side of Aramis' head. “I promise.”

He held onto Aramis and let the vampire cry but his gaze turned back to the open door of the empty room. There was something about it which still didn't feel right. So far all of his memories had been familiar but he didn't remember an empty room and that old sofa and why would the TV screen be showing them the house? No, something was very different about that room and he wanted to go back in to explore it again.

\-------------------------------

D'Artagnan was busy in the kitchen making them some lunch which Constance was grateful for considering none of them had eaten all day long. She sat in the living-room with a very depressed werewolf. They were waiting for Flea who had promised to come round as soon as she was able.

“Porthos, it'll be fine. They'll both be fine. Aramis has been alive for over a hundred years and has been in far more dangerous situations than the one he was faced with yesterday, I'm sure.”

“Then where he is?” Porthos asked.

“Right there on the TV,” d'Artagnan pointed out in shock as he came into the room with a plate of baguettes. But it was the TV he was staring at because, right there on the black and white screen, Athos and Aramis had just walked into the empty room.

“What the fuck?” Porthos said, also in surprise. He slid of the sofa and began crawling closer to the screen on his hands and knees. “That's them. They're in our bloody TV! Aramis!” he began to scream. “Aramis! Athos!”

Inside the grey room the voice was distant but clear as it came from the TV speakers. Someone was calling their names. They both looked at the TV screen and saw Porthos on the other side, his face seemingly bigger than the rest of his body thanks to the odd angle.

“Porthos!” Aramis cried and raced over to the screen. He reached out and placed his hand on the glass. “Porthos! Is that you? Is that actually you?”

“You can hear me?” the werewolf cried and choked back a sob. “Aramis, are you okay? Are you really there?”

“Yes,” Aramis nodded and laughed through his new tears. “Yes it's me. Is that really you?”

“I think so,” Porthos said. “Where are you guys? Why the fuck are you in our TV?”

“We're not in the TV,” Aramis explained, his fingers pressing hard against the glass of the screen. “We're in Athos' after-life. That bastard Rochefort pushed me through and Athos came in after me. We're trying to find our way out.”

“Fuck,” Porthos gasped and fell back onto his arse. Constance and d'Artagnan soon appeared either side of him and sat down onto the carpet grinning.

“Athos! Aramis!” D'Artagnan grinned with happiness. “We've been looking for you!”

“Unfortunately you won't find us,” Athos said calmly, not as overcome with emotions as the rest of them, at least on the outside. They was right there but right there was still a whole different world away. “We came across a version of Ninon in here who says there is a way for us to get out but it's..” Impossible? No, he couldn't use that word in front of them. “...really difficult. There is a porthole somewhere here which will get us back to you but we don't know where it is and, in order for us to get leave, someone has to come through it and into here.”

“Go into your after-life?” Constance asked who, like the others, was trying to take it all in.

“Yes,” Athos nodded. “Which is something we cannot ask of anyone.”

“Where will the door appear on this side?” d'Artagnan asked, always the clever one even if he didn't realise it.

“We do not know that either,” Athos explained. “It could be anywhere which has been a part of my life. I won't know where until I find it.”

“Well tell us,” d'Artagnan said, like it was that simple. “When you've found the door, tell us where it is and we'll go to it.”

Athos thought about that for a moment and realised it was clearly the logical solution. He was surprised that he hadn't thought about that himself. “Alright,” Athos said. “But you must promise me that you won't pass through. Whoever passes through to swap with us may be stuck in my after-life forever. It mustn't be any of you.”

D'Artagnan nodded his promise. Porthos was too busy reaching out and pressing his hand against the screen over Aramis' to be paying much attention to the conversation so Athos continued to speak to the other two because they at least seemed to be listening.

“I don't know how we will solve that problem but we can at least work on finding the door.” Both of the humans nodded. “That might take us quite some time. We have to keep opening doors to my memories. It's...complicated to explain.”

“It's okay,” d'Artagnan said with a grin. "I'm just glad to see you. We were worried that...well...we went to Rochefort's house and everything.”

Athos was concerned about that piece of information but was pleased that they all appeared to be unharmed. “Don't go near that vampire,” he warned them and then he turned his attention to the werewolf.

“Porthos,” he said, hoping to get Porthos to look at him. “I'm sorry.”

“What for?” Porthos grumbled, lowering his hand, tears of relief and happiness steaming down his face.

“For breaking my promise to you and not keeping Aramis safe.”

“Stop it,” Porthos said immediately. “Sounds like you did. You went in after him, Athos. I'm just so glad to see you're both alive...well not alive...well you know what I bloody mean.”

“We do,” Athos said with a bit of a smile. It was so good to see all of them again although difficult at the same time.

“You two both get back to me alright? You both get back to me and I swear I'll never complain about your annoying habits ever again.”

“What annoying habits?” Aramis asked confused.

\------------------------------

“We can do this, right?” Aramis said, he had been giving Athos a bit of a pep talk in the corridor. The vampire's mood has decidedly cheered up since their real interaction with the others.

“Yes,” Athos said with a nod. He wasn't quite bouncing around on his feet like the vampire was but he did feel eager to find the magic door to the outside world which Ninon had convinced them both existed. He just hoped that she was right. In fact he glanced over at Ninon's door and wondered if they shouldn't talk to her first about the developments but then noticed Aramis bouncing even higher and decided that opening a few more doors wouldn't hurt.

“So we just open the door, go through to check we can go through it, come back out and try another door?” Aramis said, going over the plan again. Athos nodded before reaching out and opening the next one. The door led to somewhere outside and it was a sunny day.

“You know, Aramis,” Athos suddenly said and, with his hand still on the door-handle, turned back the vampire. “You probably don't even have to come with me every single time.”

“Oh no, no,” the vampire shook his head and reached out to hold onto Athos' shoulder. “We're not leaving each other. We're doing this together.” He smiled. “Oh and I love you.”

Whilst Athos couldn't say it back he certainly felt very strongly towards Aramis and hoped that the the words would come soon enough. Aramis didn't seem to mind the lack of a reaction and continued to smile as they both stepped into the doorway and walked straight though.

“Just a memory then,” Aramis muttered sadly, glancing around at their new environment. They were outside in the sunshine, standing on a quiet country lane and the door was attached to a cottage behind them. “This is nice,” Aramis mused. “Where are we?”

“I'm not entirely sure,” Athos admitted just before furiously screams suddenly came from up the lane. They both turned and saw a gang of five teenage boys in muddy clothes tearing down the hill towards them.

“Oh,” Athos said and, as the gang approached, he began to back away. Aramis stared at the approaching boys confused then at Athos even more confused. Athos was about to run but he hadn't reacted quickly enough and the boys went crashing into him which made him tumble to the ground.

“Why did you run from us, you posh git?” a short stocky boy spat as he swung his leg and kicked Athos in the stomach with a thud.

“Yeah, you rich tosser. Stand and fight. Stop being such a baby,” another with red-hair and a missing tooth said as he bent down and grabbed Athos by the jumper, tugging the ghost back up onto his feet.

Aramis watched the whole thing rather baffled. Why were a bunch of fifteen year old's beating up Athos?

“You gonna go running home to mother and father?” a third boy teased and smacked Athos around the ear with a closed fist once the ghost was on his feet. Athos lifted his arm to defend himself but he made no move to actually fight back.

“Athos, why are a bunch of children beating you up?” Aramis asked calmly as he continued to watch until it dawned on him; this was Athos' memory, this must have really happened to him. Suddenly Aramis began feeling angry and the boy's, who hadn't noticed his presence before, turned to look at the vampire a little baffled about the fact he was even there.

“Who the fuck are you?” the red-head asked.

“I,” Aramis announced proudly. “...am his friend. And you shouldn't swear.”

“He don't have no friends.”

“Yes he does,” Aramis protested with a glare. “Actually I'm his boyfriend. Well sort of, it's complicated.”

“Ewwww!!” All of the boy's said at once and two of them shoved Athos away so harshly that he fell back onto the ground. “I always knew you were a fairy!” One of yelled down at the ghost which shocked Aramis more than anything.

“Do you have a problem with gay people, young man?” he asked the one with dirty-blond hair who had spoken and looked the oldest; in fact his trousers were a couple of inches too short.

“Yeah I do,” the blond said, turning to face the vampire without any fear. “My dad says that queers will try and bum you if you just bend down in front of them.”

“Well what your father said is partly true,” Aramis pointed out. “Although your father was naked and was begging me for it whilst he was bending over so, in my defence, he was encouraging me.”

One of the other boy's laughed until the blond gave him a sharp look before turning back to Aramis angrily.

“You're a liar. Get lost unless you want a beating an' all.”

Aramis shook his head and tutted at the blond before purposely stepping forward. “Well, you see, you might want to play nice here as, as well as being Athos' boyfriend, I also happen to be a vampire.”

That made a couple of the lad's snort and they all elbowed each other and whispered things. The blond however, was looking Aramis up and down.

“No you ain't,” he pointed out. “You're standing in daylight for a start.”

“Ah,” Aramis nodded at the boy's keen perception. “Good observation skills but I'm afraid that we can be in sunlight, we just don't like it.” Aramis moved even closer and, a little unsure, the boy took a tiny step backwards. “But there is one thing that every book, movie and TV show gets right.”

“What's that?” another boy innocently asked even though Aramis only had eyes for the oldest.

“We are all very good at killing,” Aramis pointed out before letting the black liquid seep into his eyes and his teeth push through his gums. He hissed at them and the boys all screamed and began running away but Aramis grabbed the dirty-blond before he got too far.

Athos, who was still lying on the floor, vaguely heard screaming and, feeling a little humiliated, pushed himself up back onto his feet where he discovered Aramis feeding on a squirming teenager.

“Aramis,” he said with a sigh. “Stop eating the boy.”

Aramis lifted his teeth away from the boy's neck, his mouth and chin covered in wet, fresh blood. “He isn't real,” he vampire pointed out, licking blood off his lips.

“Still,” Athos said, brushing some of the dirt from the path off his clothes. “...it's unnerving to watch you do it.”

Aramis rolled his eyes and let go of the blond, who grabbed his neck in shock and pain and began running off after his friends with blood dripping down his clothes. The vampire stared at the ghost for a few seconds before starting to walk back towards the door.

“I'm sorry you once went through that, Athos,” he said. Athos gave a little shrug. It had been a long time ago although he'd never forgotten. Perhaps he had forgotten how many times he had been beaten up by the local boys but he had never forgotten how humiliated it made him feel and how terrified he always was of his family finding out. When they walked back through the door and returned to the corridor, Aramis immediately put his arms around the ghost and pulled him in for what Aramis considered a much needed hug.

 


	36. You'll make yourself sick

“Okay, so they find the door on that side and we find the door on this side, but then what?” d'Artagnan asked as they all sat in the living-room with the TV on as they waited. “If they can't come out unless someone goes in, that's a problem.”

“We should shove Rochefort in,” Porthos suggested although he didn't really mean it; they had no-idea where Rochefort was for a start and Porthos was quite certain that he'd immediately tear the vampire apart if they ever came across him.

Constance, whose tired head was currently resting on d'Artagnan's lap, spoke up. “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. We have to wait for them to find the door first. It could take weeks, months...” She was going to continue on but stopped herself; she knew that the other two wouldn't want to hear the rest of the options and she didn't either.

“They'll find it soon enough,” Porthos told them both with a great deal of belief in his heart. “Athos ain't that old, he can't have that many memories.”

Constance smiled up at him and hoped, for all of their sakes, that Porthos was right.

Only it was a good few hours before the other two appeared back on the TV screen. Porthos, who had barely moved from the living-room apart from trips to the bathroom, immediately jumped out of Athos' seat and went over to kneel in front of the screen.

“Hey,” he said with a big grin, he was ridiculously pleased to see them both again. “How's it going?”

“Nothing yet,” Aramis admitted but smiled back at Porthos anyway, happy to see him. “How long have we been?”

Porthos studied the clock and quickly worked it out in his head. “Nearly five hours I think.”

“Seriously?” The Aramis in the TV said before he sighed. “It doesn't feel that long to me. Time must go slower here. How are you doing?”

“I miss you two,” Porthos pointed out but was then distracted by a knock at the door. Porthos glanced over his shoulder but d'Artagnan wiggled out from underneath Constance and went to get it. Porthos waited to hear who it was, just in case, and was both relieved and panicked when he heard Treville's voice. His head promptly snapped back to the TV.

“I think Treville's here. Fuuuck, I was meant to be working today, totally forgot.”

“He'll understand,” Athos assured him as he went over to the tatty couch and collapsed down onto it. Porthos reached out his hand to press his fingers against the screen. Aramis did the same thing and it made them both feel a little better.

“You really okay?” Porthos asked and the vampire nodded.

“I've learned more about Athos in the past few hours than I have the entire time we've known him,” Aramis pointed out which made Porthos chuckle.

“I bet. I look forward to you telling me all about it when you get back,” he gave the vampire a wink but was then distracted by the voices coming into the living-room. He turned to look over his shoulder again at d'Artagnan and Treville who had just come in. D'Artagnan was pointing at the TV.

“See, they're in there. That's Athos' after-life.”

Treville stared at the TV screen baffled, tilting his head he came a little closer and continued to look perplexed as Aramis waved at him cheerfully.

“These things...” Treville began when he finally stood back up straight. “...don't actually happen in real life to real people.”

“Well I'm a real person,” d'Artagnan pointed out. “And it's happening to me.”

“It just doesn't happen,” Treville told him which made d'Artagnan nod, trying to humour the poor, confused human.

“Okay but, even so, it's a pretty good excuse as to why Porthos and I didn't turn up to work today, right?”

Treville looked from d'Artagnan to Porthos and then back to the human again.

“I'm just not quite sure how I'm going to explain to Gerard that his assistant chef didn't turn up because he was busy trying to free his vampire and ghost friend from the after-life by chatting to them on a TV screen in the living-room. I don't quite know how I'm going to explain that because I can't quite believe it myself.”

D'Artagnan looked at him sympathetically as Constance got up and was soon on her feet. “I'll go and make us all a cup of tea,” she suggested and Treville didn't seem to complain.

Whilst the others were trying to encourage to Treville to sit down before he fell down, Aramis dropped himself down onto the leather sofa with Athos and looked at the ghost.

“We should go and talk to Ninon again just to make sure she hasn't remembered anything else which might help us,” Aramis suggested. So far, despite just being a memory, Ninon had been remarkably useful. Athos nodded in agreement. “You know,” Aramis continued. “If you want some 'alone' time with her, you only have to ask.”

Athos frowned at the suggestion. “Why would I want alone time with her?”

Aramis snorted. “Athos, she's in there naked and she likes you and I don't mind.”

Athos continued to frown and shook his head. “No, it's not the same now.”

“Why?” Aramis asked curiously.

“Because I like _you_ ,” Athos automatically admitted and the words made Aramis go quiet for a moment before a smile stretched across his face.

“That's very sweet,” Aramis pointed out and wrapped his arm around the ghost's shoulders. He pulled Aramis closer and placed a kiss on the side of his temple. When Aramis looked back over at the TV he saw that Porthos had been watching the whole thing and Aramis suddenly moved to remove his arm but Porthos was smiling at the pair of them. Surprised and somewhat relieved at the werewolf's silent reaction, Aramis kept his arm where it was.

\-----------------------------

“Any luck?” Ninon asked as she scrambled to put the blanket back on for Athos' benefit.

“No,” Athos admitted glumly as they walked into the memory of his bedroom after opening a few more doors but having no luck. “And we've been at it for hours. So far they have all been memories. But there is a room which has a chair and a TV and we've been-able to communicate with the others.”

Ninon's face lit up at the new piece of information. “Then they're giving you a chance to get out! They wouldn't have done that otherwise. Athos, keep trying. Your doorway back to the other world will be here somewhere.”

“I just need to rest for a bit,” Aramis groaned as he held onto his slightly bloated stomach and wobbled over to the bed like a pregnant woman. As soon as he had scrambled on and collapsed down behind Ninon he let out a loud belch. Constance stared at the vampire then glanced back at Athos who decided to apologise on Aramis' behalf.

“Sorry. We keep coming across people from my past who aren't very nice. Aramis has been....helping me out.”

Ninon chuckled quietly once she realised what had happened. “Well they aren't real. They'll be alive again if you ever re-open the same door.”

“We've met his ex-wife twice,” Aramis explained, placing his hand over his mouth before accidentally letting out another impressive belch. “Oh an endless supply of humans that never actually die. This is like vampire heaven,” Aramis mused and looked up at Ninon's back. “Do vampires go to an after-life?”

“Yes,” she said as she twisted around to look at him. “Everyone who dies has an afterlife.”

“Like this one?” Aramis asked. “Only I sort of thought...I hoped...I guess I assumed that, when you die, you get to be with the people that you love. I mean the real people, not just a memory of them.”

“This is a temporarily after-life,” she explained. “This part allows you to revisit moments in your life and reflect.”

“Temporary?” Aramis groaned and tried to shift but his belly was too full of blood to really get comfortable and his entire body was hypersensitive, everything was loud and bright and a bit too much. At least he was finding some comfort in the darkness and silence of Athos' bedroom. “Oh I don't want to know. This whole thing is entirely confusing. I'll wait until I get here myself properly and find out then.” He let his arms flop out to his sides, one of them slapping against Ninon's leg. “Just let me lie here in my blood-coma for a while.”

Athos rolled his eyes but Ninon continued to laugh.

“Ninon,” Athos spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the vampire. “Can you watch him for a while? There's...something I want to revisit.”

She nodded and hurried him away with the wave of her hand and, despite the fact they had promised each other not to separate, Aramis was too high on blood to complain when Athos left the room and slowly walked back to the first door which was still open. He just needed to see Thomas one last time.

\------------------------------

“This is fucking insane!” Flea said as she sat in the living-room where there was now quite a gathering considering Treville hadn't left either. “We need to hunt down this Rochefort and stake him.”

“That's probably the least important part of this whole thing,” Constance pointed out, trying to control the fiery werewolf who was currently sitting on the coffee table which irritated Constance to no end.

“No it ain't,” Flea snapped, her uncombed blond mane flying around as she spoke. “That bastard shoved Aramis into the after-life. You gonna let him get away with it? You need to find him before he even gets to the Paris coven.”

“He's probably already there,” Porthos told her. “Anyway, Aramis seemed to think that Richelieu would be so mad at him he'll probably have him killed. Rochefort isn't our problem.”

“He bloody is,” Flea stood up. “Porthos, since when did you become so soft?” Then, before he could stop her, she was stomping out of the room in her big black boots.

“Where are you going?” Porthos called after her and sighed. Then he turned to three humans. “Call me if Aramis and Athos come back,” he said, wavering vaguely at the empty TV screen. They all nodded and watched as Porthos disappeared off after Flea.

\-------------------------------

Aramis wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed but he woke up with a woozy head and a swirling stomach which was threatening to empty the moment he tried to move. “I shouldn't have drunk so much,” he muttered to himself and heard a soft chuckle coming from somewhere in the room. He turned his head very slowly and found Ninon humming to herself as she walked around the bedroom flicking through one of Athos' books wearing the sheet like a toga. Aramis slowly continued to look around the room but there was no sign of the ghost.

“Won't you get bored in here?” Aramis asked because that seemed like a more important question than 'where's Athos?' at that moment. “I mean, won't you like be here for eternity?”

“I'm not real, remember?” she pointed out and Aramis was soon discovering that thinking too hard only hurt his head so he stopped himself from doing so. Then, like a new born animal, he wobbled around on his arms before finally sitting himself up.

“Urgh, that was a bad idea. Too much blood. I never thought I'd actually look forward to being tied to that chair but now I think I am.”

Ninon laughed again but she wasn't looking at him, just walking around. “It does sound like you overdid it.”

“Well, Athos has a lot of people in his life who deserve it,” Aramis told her. “Although, on the whole, he has a lot of nice memories as well.”

Ninon's attention finally moved from the book and she smiled at him. “That's good to know.”

“Where is he?” Aramis asked, running his hand through his hair to push his curls back. “I suppose we should get back to door-opening.”

When she told him that Athos had gone to revisit a room Aramis knew exactly which one. So Aramis got up and gingerly left the bedroom to go back out into the hallway. When he stepped into the room where he knew he'd find Athos, he quickly spotted the ghost sitting at the grand piano, sharing a stall with his little brother and they were attempting to do a duet together. Only Thomas kept on messing up and giggling. Athos smiled warmly down at the child and showed him how to do it again, being more patient with his brother than Aramis had ever seen him with anyone else.

Aramis gave them space for a while, allowing Athos to spend some precious time with his brother once more. In fact he still felt a little sick from all of the blood so decided that a slow walk around Athos' old mansion house would perhaps give his body a chance to heal and recover anyway.

\---------------------------

“He might not even come back here though,” Porthos pointed out as he called to Flea from the other-side of the gates having found himself back at Rochefort's house again.

“Yes he will,” Flea grunted, pressing the button which they now knew existed and opening the gate for Porthos to get in. “Even vampires will need to pack some clothes before joining a coven. We might have missed him though. Let's go and find out.”

So, Porthos, whilst knowing somewhere deep down that it was a terribly bad idea, squeezed past the iron-gates when they had opened wide enough and followed Flea up the long gravel path towards the house. They weren't even far up the path when they noticed something which gave them an indication that something was wrong...the front door was wide open.

“See, told you,” Flea said with a smirk and began to run which forced Porthos to run after her.

“Have you even got a stake?” he asked from behind her, his feet scrunching loudly on the peddles.

She turned to look over her shoulder and smiled at him before pulling out a wooden stake with a fierce spike from underneath her jacket. “Always.”

They both darted through the front door only it wasn't Rochefort they came across, it was a far more shocking sight. An old man was lying on the ground in a pool of blood, his fingers gripping the wound on his neck desperately.

“Oh fuck,” Flea gasped and immediately raced forward and dived onto her knees, skidding in the blood towards him. She tried to lift the old man up and rest his head onto her lap. “Hey, you still with us?”

The man whose eyes were already slightly glazed, nodded slowly.

“It's his butler,” Porthos explained, assuming at least from what d'Artagnan had said about the man in the garden.

“Did Rochefort do this to you?” Flea asked the pale man shivering in her arms. The man nodded again.

“He's...he's gone...” the man somehow managed to stutter out.

Flea sighed. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“No!” The butler quickly tensed as he protested then seemed to calm when he added. “It's fine, my dear. I'm ready to go now.”

“Are you kidding me?” Flea asked. “You just need some blood. You'll be alright.” It was a false promise she knew that much but she couldn't bear to see an old man die in a pool of his own blood.

“No, no,” the man said adamantly and even shook his head from side to side slowly. “I'm 75. I won't be-able to find another job now. My wife died many years ago and I have no friends. It's time for me to go. If this is the end, then so be it.”

“Don't be silly,” she told him firmly. “I'm not going to let you die here. At least let us make you comfortable.”

The old man closed his eyes as he flinched in pain and nodded slowly, accepting that at least.

\-------------------------

Athos eventually noticed Aramis milling around and sighed as he put his arm around Thomas and gave the lad a squeeze, resting his cheek on top of Thomas' tight curls. “I think it's time for lunch,” he said gently to the boy. “Go and see what nanny is making us.”

Thomas nodded and slid off the big stool. “Okay, Olivier! I hope we still have some of the apple pie left.” He grinned as he ran out of the room.

“Sorry,” Athos said once the little boy had gone, his head hanging down because all of his limbs suddenly felt incredibly heavy. “I just needed to see him one last time.”

“Athos, you don't have to apologise,” Aramis informed him as he went over to the piano. “I understand. You know, if you're changing your mind and...” Aramis didn't want to say it; he knew that he should say but he couldn't quite bring himself round to doing so. “I mean...I will try to understand if you actually want to...” Athos stood up and stopped Aramis' words with a kiss on the lips. Aramis closed his eyes and kissed Athos back, moaning against his mouth as his hands reached out to hold onto Athos' slim hips. And the gentle kiss continued for a long time until they eventually had to pull back and return to reality...or half reality.

“I want to be with you,” Athos admitted, looking Aramis in the eyes so that Aramis wouldn't doubt the honesty in his words. “Come on, let's go searching through more memories.”

Aramis smiled, feeling a bit dopey from the kiss.

“Just stop drinking from everyone,” Athos suggested as he took Aramis' hand and began dragging him out of the room. “You'll make yourself sick.”

“Yes, Athos,” Aramis replied happily, grinning as he looked down at Athos' hand holding his.

\----------------------------

The two werewolf's burst back into the house so loudly that it made all of the humans jump.

“Constance!” Porthos yelled which made Constance automatically get off the sofa and rush to the hallway where the sight of what she saw made her gasp and fling her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Between the two werewolf's they were carrying an old man whose hand was pressed firmly against his neck but that wasn't stopping the blood from leaking through his fingers.

“Grab the first-aid kit,” Porthos told her and Constance immediately vanished into the kitchen.

“I think he's a little beyond a first-aid kit,” Flea pointed out as they both carried the dying man into the living-room. The two human men then stood up and looked in shock before the realisation sadly sank in for d'Artagnan.

“Oh no!” he cried. “It's the nice man from the garden!”

The two humans got out of the way as the werewolf's gently placed the old man down onto the sofa where he sighed with relief at the fact he was finally lying down.

“Did Rochefort do this?” d'Artagnan asked and Porthos nodded at him before his attention was diverted to Constance who was back in the room carrying a first-aid kit. Porthos stood back to let Constance work but Constance froze on the spot.

“I don't know what to do, Porthos. I trained to be a midwife for a year, we didn't learn how to deal with vampire bites.”

They all stood there for a few seconds until Treville stepped forward and took the first-aid kit off Constance. “All we can do is apply pressure,” he said, opening up the kit and going over to the man. He knelt down on the carpet and placed the first-aid kit on the floor. “He needs to have the wound cauterised, stitched up and he needs a blood transfusion.”

Treville used his teeth to rip open one of the packets and removed the man's hand to press down a sterile pad. “Call an ambulance for heavens sake!” he barked at the others but they all stood there.

“He doesn't want that,” Flea pointed out.

“I don't care what he wants,” Treville told her fiercely.

“He...” Flea looked at Porthos nervously but the big man was just staring down at the butler so Flea was left to explain. “We told him in the car about what Rochefort had done and about Aramis and Athos stuck in the after-life. He has offered himself up as a sacrifice.”

“What?” Treville, who still had his hand pressing against the man's neck, trying to stop the bleeding, looked over his shoulder at the two of them. But it was the butler himself, speaking in a very weak voice, who decided to explain.

“I have very little family and no friends. I have no memories other than those of serving others. I don't know this Athos...” he paused, flinching a little in pain before he was able to carry on. “But if I can offer myself up to get those young men back to you all, I'm willing to do it.”

Treville stared down at him and his heart warmed for the dying man even more. “You don't even know these people. Why would you be willing to do something like that? You could be stuck in his after-life for eternity.”

The old man smiled a little. “Well, according to that polite young man standing there, this Athos used to live in a mansion house in the countryside. And, whilst he lost his parents and his brother as an adult, his life before all that sounds really quite wonderful. Hopefully they had a nice garden.”

The old man closed his eyes and Treville silently despaired. “He doesn't know what he's talking about,” he hissed to Porthos over his shoulder. “He doesn't understand what he's offering.”

“I do, young man, I do,” the butler said, as he lay there getting paler by the minute. “And I knew full well what he was doing all of this time. I knew about vampire's and about the parties. I don't want to be in this world anymore. It's too dark and too cruel. Please, let me make up for things a little.”

Treville sighed and, with his spare hand, rubbed it over his mouth.

“Just make sure you keep me alive until they find that door,” the butler requested.

Treville nodded. “What's your name?” he asked the man curiously. At least wanting to know that much about this person who was so willing to give himself up for eternity for a stranger.

“Edgard Rochefort.” And seeing Treville's shocked face he went to on explain. “Yes I'm afraid I'm his father.”

\--------------------------------

Another door and another disappointment. The last door had led to the little village school which Athos had attended for a brief period before his parents changed their minds and hired a private tutor to teach him at home. That had been a shame because Athos had quite enjoyed going to school for a couple of years. He had liked the teachers, he enjoyed the lessons and he had even managed to make a friend or two, mostly with girls because he found the other boys too rowdy.

Athos and Aramis closed the door to the school and stood in the doorway, desperately trying not to give up hope.

“Come on,” Aramis said, still somehow clinging onto some positivity which Athos admired. “We haven't actually been trying for very long. We'll find it soon enough.”

“I hope so,” Athos said and decided to try a different door not that there was a whole lot of logic to trying different doors but, for some reason, it felt like luck might be more on their side if they did. Athos opened it and stepped froward to look inside it when, smack, he walked right into something. He immediately reached up to grab his nose which he had just squashed. It felt like he had walked head-first into a wall only there wasn't a wall, there was nothing in the immediate area of the doorway apart from empty space. Athos, with a sore nose, looked confused and Aramis felt the same. The vampire stepped forward a little more tentatively to go into the room and he couldn't either. They could see through into other side but they couldn't go in.

“We found it!!!” The vampire suddenly screamed. “We fucking found it!!” He grabbed Athos around the waist and squeezed him tightly, lifting him off his feet and swinging him in circles for a moment before letting him go and peering into the room which had some sort of a invisible power stopping them from going through.

“Where is this? Where is it?” he asked and Athos let go of his throbbing nose long enough to have a look. All he could see was black at first; soot covering the walls, burnt furniture and a large hole in the ceiling. It only took him seconds to realise what they were looking at.

“It's my old house,” he pointed out. “It's my old house. Look, it has burnt down now. This is the ruins.”

“Fuck!” Aramis screamed and immediately turned to run back into the TV room. Athos held out his hand to go into the doorway again, just in case, but something stopped his hand from going inside. This was it, this one was different. Even Athos smiled as he went after Aramis and soon they found themselves back in the room with the tatty sofa and looked at the screen only something was going on. Constance, Treville and somebody else had their backs to the TV and there someone was lying across the couch.

“Umm guys?” Aramis called, hoping that they could hear him despite being distracted. “Guys?”

It was Constance who turned around and smiled, then Flea did the same, but without the smile.

“Aramis!” Constance cried happily and went over to sit on the carpet in front of the TV. “How are you both?”

“What's going on?” Aramis asked curiously and, despite the fact it made no difference, tried to lean over to see who was on the sofa. “What's Flea doing there?”

“Hello, Leech.”

Aramis frowned at her.

“Oh...stuff happened,” Constance explained although that didn't really explain very much. She leaned forward and continued rather frantically. “Please tell me you've found the door.”

“We found the door,” Aramis pointed out and it made Constance scream with joy. Both Aramis and Athos flinched at the noise as it hurt their ears.

“Flea! Call the boys! Get them back! We might not need the blood after all, they found the door!”

“Blood?” Aramis asked, getting frustrated about the fact he didn't know what was going on. “What's happening over there?”

“Very long story, so I'll give you the summary,” Constance said once her attention was back on those in the after-life. “Rochefort tried to kill his butler although he's not his...oh well, anyway he's dying so we were going to hook him up with some blood because he wants to swap with you guys so you can come out. Anyway...where's the door?”

It was Athos who stepped up to explain. “Back at the manor house where I used to live. D'Artagnan knows where it is.”

“Great! Right, one of us can stay here and talk to you both whilst the others get this man over to it.”

“Constance, Rochefort's butler, does he understand the implications of what he has offered to do?”

“Yes,” Constance nodded sternly. “He feels like it's his duty to do it. It's complicated. You don't want to know.”

Constance soon got distracted when Flea called her so she left the TV screen to walk away. As she did so Athos sighed.

“Aramis, it's my after-life. I don't want anyone having to suffer in it, let alone a complete stranger. This feels odd...wrong.”

“Your after-life isn't as bad as you think,” Aramis informed the ghost. “People can avoid the horrible parts and just stay with the nice things. They can live in your big mansion house with your brother and nanny if they want. They can ride your horses and read from your library. Or there's a naked Ninon in the bedroom. Athos, it isn't so bad. There are worst after-life's than yours. Anyway Ninon says this is the temporarily stage, remember? There's another part to this dead world.”

“You do understand what this man, this butler, has offered to do?”

“Yes,” Aramis grinned. “Isn't it wonderful?”

“It's madness."

 


	37. Scruffy cave-man

With Constance nominated to stay back at the house and sit by the TV screen, the others had driven off to the de la Fere mansion with Edgard Rochefort who was fading fast. He was starting to get confused and his breathing had become very shallow. Treville who, despite the fact still seemed morally against the whole plan, had come along to try and help Rochefort's father as much as possible. Flea was in the front of the car with Porthos, banging on the side of the driver's seat in an attempt to hurry her fellow werewolf up.

“Flea, I am being quick but the last thing we want is to be stopped by the police!” Porthos snapped at her but she just smacked his head-rest so hard it actually made him jump. D'Artagnan was in the back with Treville, trying to keep Mr Rochefort as calm as he could which Treville was very thankful for. D'Artagnan was a very kind, gentle lad and Edgard seemed to be responding to his calm voice.

“We're almost there now, Mr Rochefort,” d'Artagnan explained after taking a moment to guide Porthos off at the right junction to head out into the countryside. D'Artagnan knew the area well as the village had been his home for many years.

“That's good,” Edgard whispered quietly. “If you ever see my son, don't tell him what I did,” the dying man insisted. “Let him think that I died alone in the house where he left me.”

D'Artagnan nodded slowly and glanced up at Treville. They were all furious with Rochefort but d'Artagnan, even more than the rest of them, couldn't understand how anyone could kill their own father. D'Artagnan still missed his own father terribly.

“He didn't deserve you,” d'Artagnan pointed out and placed a warm hand down on Edgard's chest and felt the man's heart beating rapidly through his fingers.

“Porthos, hurry up,” d'Artagnan suggested, even though he knew that Porthos was trying. It only took them another thirty minutes to reach the burnt-out ruins of what had once been the great de la Fere home. Edgard had managed to hold on although he was drifting in and out of consciousness. As soon as the car stopped the two werewolf's dived out but Treville seemed less than enthusiastic to move.

“You not coming?” d'Artagnan asked as he began to climb out of the car himself.

“No,” Treville said. “I care about your friends but this...I'm just not sure about this.”

“It's okay,” d'Artagnan reassured him and got out so Porthos could reach in for Edgard. Porthos lifted the weak man up on his arms as he didn't weigh much and Porthos carried him over to the building. They all stepped through the archway where a door lay on the ground off its hinges. Whilst the walls were still standing most of the roof was missing and a lot of the ceiling between the floors had collapsed. The majority of the furniture had been destroyed and the walls were black from the smoke damage.

“Where's the door?” Porthos asked and the other two raced off to find it. After some frantic searching Flea eventually found the door. She had opened it and then been momentarily blinded by a bright yellow light which eventually faded to be less glaring but she still couldn't see through the doorway. It was down the eastern wing of the building and she had no-idea what the room would have once been. It wasn't long before Porthos and d'Artagnan had joined her. Porthos placed Edgard down gently onto the floor.

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to lift the old man's head up to check if he was still conscious. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, not even knowing if he was going to get an answer.

“I've never wanted to do anything more in my entire life,” Rochefort's father whispered with some frailty.

“Thank you,” Porthos said, openly and honestly. “You don't even know us yet you're willing to live for eternity in someone else's after-life for us. You have no-idea how amazing that makes you. You have no-idea how different you are to your son.”

That made the man let out a soft grateful sob just as d'Artagnan reached for his phone and dialled Constance's number. She immediately picked up.

“Are they there?” he asked. “Tell us when.”

Constance hit the TV screen to get the attention of the two in the afterlife who was busy talking. Their heads immediately turned.

“Okay, guys, they're ready on his end. Go to the door.”

Inside the almost empty room Aramis was trying to knock some sense into Athos. He had his hand on Athos' shoulder and he was squeezing tightly.

“Athos, he wants to do this. He has offered to do it. He's dying anyway.”

“And he deserves to go to his after-life.”

“Maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he doesn't have things that he wants to revisit. He wouldn't have offered himself to do this for a complete stranger otherwise. Athos, this might be our one and only chance and I'm not leaving you. Either we go through together or neither of us do.”

Aramis crouched down a little to get Athos' attention as the ghost stared at the floor.

“Please, Athos, please. Let's respect his decision and get the hell out of here. I want to go home.”

Athos stood there for a good few seconds before he slowly raised his head. “As do I,” he admitted which made Aramis smile and reach for his hand. He turned back to the TV.

“Okay, Constance. We're ready.”

Aramis tugged Athos back out into the hallway and towards the door which was open and shining gold. He did notice the look Athos briefly gave the door which led back to Thomas but Athos didn't slow his stride, he walked up to the other door with Aramis and there they both waited.

“You sure? Final chance,” Porthos said, he was holding onto Edgard's arm which was around his shoulders after helping the dying man up onto his feet.

“I'm very sure, I promise,” the old man wheezed and his head began to droop.

“Hold on!” Porthos yelled, suddenly panicking. “Don't die yet! One more second!”

He was struggling to keep the old man on his feet until, out of no-where, someone suddenly stood to Edgard's left and wrapped an arm around his waist. Porthos looked over Edgard's head and saw Treville. Treville gave him a firm nod, Porthos smiled and nodded back and that was that. They all walked slowly over to the door and helped Edgard stand up himself, the old man barely managed it but he obviously found some strength from somewhere because he soon reached out a shivering arm and placed the hand into the bright light. It made him smile. Then he took small steps into the doorway.

On the other side a body began to appear. First a hand, then an arm.

“This is it,” Aramis cried. “Come on!”

He squeezed onto Athos' hand tightly and, as the blood covered chest of someone appeared, Aramis tugged Athos into the glaring light, closing his eyes. There was a loud whoosh noise and they felt like they were falling until suddenly the ground was steady beneath their feet. Athos dared to open his eyes and the first thing he saw was Porthos. The man had tears steaming down his face and he just cried harder as he stumbled forward. It wasn't long before both Athos and Aramis were engulfed into the sobbing werewolf's arms. Athos let himself be squeezed and became even more squashed when someone else slammed into his back.

“You're both here!” he heard d'Artagnan cry joyfully from behind. The four of them all embraced until a faded female voice started yelling from somewhere.

“Did it work? Are they there? Did they make it? D'Artagnan!!”

The body behind Athos loosened a little as d'Artagnan laughed. He lifted up the phone he had in his hand and held it out to Aramis.

“You tell her,” he said and Aramis smiled as he grabbed the phone.

“Hey, Constance,” he said and then she deafened him with a scream.

\--------------------------------

“Who was he? This butler?” Athos asked once he finally had some space away from the others and wasn't being hugged anymore. In fact he was standing over the ruins of the grand piano, now nothing more than a pathetic pile of burnt wood. It was in that room he had tied up his wife and started the fire. Athos wasn't entirely sure if that felt like yesterday or a life-time ago.

“He wasn't exactly a butler, he was Rochefort's father,” d'Artagnan explained. The boy was lingering back but not letting the ghost out of his sight in fear that Athos would disappear again.

“His father?” Athos looked over at the human, surprised by the news. D'Artagnan just nodded slowly. “We just put Rochefort's father in my afterlife?”

“He seemed like a good man,” d'Artagnan pointed out. “I think he felt awful about all of the things his son had done. Rochefort Jr tried to kill him. Well he did kill him I guess. Athos, he wanted to save you both to make amends for all of the things his son had done. We did a good thing letting him do that.”

Athos didn't seem to sure but he was thinking. “But the door closed behind him. He may be stuck in there forever and I in this world.”

D'Artagnan gave a shrug. “I doubt it. There was a way for you to get out this time. There must be a way for you to get back in when you feel ready.”

“Ninon would probably agree with you,” Athos pointed out and his attention was diverted by a vampire and werewolf coming into the room. Even though they were holding hands Aramis looked nervous somehow.

“I umm...I told Porthos,” he admitted which made the ghost immediately look at Porthos because he knew exactly what Aramis was talking about only Porthos was standing there with a smile on his face.

“We'll talk when we get home, yeah?”

Athos wasn't entirely sure he wanted to talk about it at all but he found himself nodding. Aramis let go of Porthos' hand and went over to the ghost, he kissed Athos on the cheek before wrapping his arms around him and whispering into his ear.

“I know you probably feel horrible and vulnerable and guilt-ridden and just about every emotion you can feel right now but you don't have to do this alone, Athos. We're here for you,” the vampire was whispering into his ear. “I love you and it's was amazing that I got to discover so much about you. Thank you for sharing it all with me.”

Despite the fact Athos didn't have any choice in the matter Aramis' words meant something to him. The vampire pulled back from the hug a little and looked Athos in the eyes.

“I need to go back into the chair so I need your support. Are you alright with that?”

“Yes,” Athos admitted, staring at Aramis and meaning what he had just said.

For some reason it made Aramis grin. “Good,” he said and leaned forward, pressing his cold lips against the ghost's for a gentle kiss. Athos closed his eyes and accepted it, enjoying it even. When Aramis pulled away and said 'let's go home' it was only then that Athos noticed the stunned expression on d'Artagnan's face. His eyes were darting from Porthos to Athos and back to Porthos like he was expecting Porthos to do something crazy. Only Porthos didn't; Porthos just continued to smile.

\--------------------------

Back at the house Constance was busy making mugs of hot drinks for Treville, Flea and d'Artagnan, regardless of if they actually wanted one, whilst Athos and Porthos took Aramis up into the attic. The vampire had been happy and calm the entire journey home but his mood changed once he saw the chair.

“I think I'll be alright actually,” he said, hopefully. “I've been behaving myself, haven't I? It hasn't been too bad, has it?”

“Aramis,” Athos said gently, placing a hand on the vampire's shoulder as he stood behind him as they all faced the chair. “You killed quite a few people in my after-life.”

“Yes,” Aramis admitted. “But they weren't real and they were very mean.”

“Regardless of their meanness, love,” Porthos chimed in. “You need to detox and it's better to detox when you're tied up. Then you won't go mad and accidentally kill someone who...isn't mean. I know you hate this, but it's better this way.”

“No,” Aramis turned around and looked up at Porthos with tearful eyes. “No, please. I've changed my mind. I don't want to go into the chair.” He dove forward against Porthos and buried his face into Porthos' chest. Athos could see Porthos' heart-breaking by the pained expression on his face so Athos decided to try and help out.

“The sooner you do this, Aramis. The sooner things will be back to normal. The sooner we can all be together again. You know that you're a danger to Constance and d'Artagnan when you're on blood. It might just take one thing for you to snap.”

“I wouldn't hurt them,” Aramis mumbled against Porthos' chest.

“You wouldn't mean to,” Athos agreed. “But it's still not safe for them to be around you when you're on blood. Come on, one last time.”

Aramis shook his head from side to side and Porthos wrapped his arms around the vampire and gave him a squeeze because he just couldn't help himself.

“I don't want to go into the chair, don't make me go into the chair...” Aramis whispered like a small child being ordered to bed. Only the other two knew that what they were asking of Aramis was far more serious than that.

“Don't make me force you, love, please,” Porthos pleaded and placed his hands onto Aramis' arms firmly, finally pushing him away from his chest a little.

“No!” Aramis suddenly screamed, his face full of fury. “Don't make me! I don't want to!” He began to fight against Porthos' hands to get out of his grip. Porthos had to hold on tighter, his fingers digging into Aramis. Athos grabbed Aramis as well as the vampire fought and tried to escape.

“Please don't do this,” Porthos begged but his words were lost in the screams of the vampire who was fighting furiously to get away. He was strong, too strong. He was easily getting out of their grip so they both knew they had to act fast. Porthos lifted the vampire off his feet and threw him into the chair where the vampire thrashed about and screamed louder.

“Stop! Get your hands off me! No!” Aramis bellowed. Porthos pinned one of his arms down long enough to wrap the leather strap around it and Athos got down onto his knees to tie up Aramis' ankles. Only his legs were kicking furiously and Athos got a boot to his face. It made him fall backwards, reaching for his eye as he fell onto his arse.

“Aramis, you stop this second!” came a female shrill from the doorway. Aramis immediately froze and stopped moving. “You just kicked Athos in the face. Look at what you did,” Constance said firmly and Aramis did turn to look at Athos who was still on his backside, his hand still covering his painfully throbbing cheekbone and eye. Aramis sunk down into the chair with guilt.

“He might be a ghost but he can still feel pain. Look at what you did. I thought you loved him?”

Aramis did indeed continue to look and obviously felt sorry for what he had done judging by the guilty expression on his face.

“You say you won't hurt anyone but you just hurt someone,” Constance pointed out as she marched over to him. “Now keep still and behave yourself.”

Aramis, amazingly, did exactly that. He kept still as Constance got down onto her knees and actually managed to tie-up Aramis' ankles. Porthos, rather surprised at the obedience Aramis showed Constance, quickly used the opportunity to tie up Aramis' other wrist.

“There, now good,” Constance said once she was up onto her feet again. “Porthos will stay with you now and we'll take it in turns over the next couple of days. I know it'll be tough but we all know that you're tough enough to cope with it. Now I have to get back to making tea.”

And, with that, Constance walked out of the attic.

“You know,” Porthos mumbled. “Sometimes I think I'm a little bit in love with her.”

“I think we all are,” Athos responded, his hand still over his face as he got up onto his feet.

“I'll leave you two both in peace for a moment.”

“You alright?” Porthos asked concerned.

“Yes, I just need to speak to d'Artagnan.”

Porthos nodded and watched Athos leave with a sore face. Then he turned back to the vampire who had given it to him.

“Hey, love. I missed you. I'm so happy you found your way back.”

Aramis, who had calmed down quite considerably, looked up at the werewolf. “I saw you in there, you know. It was just a memory of you but it hurt to walk away. I wanted it to be you so badly.”

Porthos knelt down in front of Aramis. “Well, you're not going anywhere from now on. I think I might actually keep you tied to this chair forever. That way I'll keep you nice and safe.”

“You'd better not,” Aramis chuckled although there was a tiny fear in the back of his mind that Porthos was half being serious. But he was soon thinking about something else. “So, you really don't mind about the Athos thing?”

“No, love,” Porthos admitted, shaking his head. “I already knew. I'm just glad you were honest with each other.”

Aramis squinted and studied Porthos for a while. “I think I know why you're not upset about it.”

“Why?”

Aramis smiled to himself a little as he said, “I think you like Athos as well.”

Porthos actually looked embarrassed and he ducked his head for a moment.

“You do!” Aramis cried with delight. “I knew it!”

“Nah I...I mean...I don't know really. There's something but I don't really know what it is.”

“You should spend time with him whilst I'm in this chair. Get to know him better. Maybe he likes you a little as well. Maybe this could turn out very interesting indeed.”

“Alright,” Porthos mumbled shyly. “But I don't think he even sees me in that way.”

“Porthos, I defy anyone not to fall in love with you.”

\-------------------------------

Athos stepped foot outside the back-door where Constance told him d'Artagnan had gone to get some air. He found the youngster sitting down on the patio leaning back against the wall.

“Aren't you cold?” Athos asked, he didn't feel the cold himself but he knew that it was a chilly night just by the frost already gathering on the grass.

“I'm alright,” d'Artagnan reassured him but pulled his thick coat a little tighter around his chest. He smiled up at Athos as the ghost came over and sat down beside him.

“You...you haven't told me if you did it or not,” d'Artagnan pointed out.

“If I killed her?” Athos asked, even though he already suspected that was what d'Artagnan was talking about. “I did not but I did confront her. It seems it was more complicated than I realised. Your father somehow knew that she was a witch, so she killed him to keep her secret safe.”

D'Artagnan went quiet as he let the new information sink in. He was no longer sure how he felt about it all. He had known that he didn't want Athos to kill Milady because he didn't want Athos to leave but Athos had left anyway. But now Athos was back and Milady was still alive and he had no-idea how he felt about it. He could think of some questions, however, which he still had.

“Then why did she leave the bluebells? And why did she stop when you killed yourself?”

“I guess the bluebells were a tradition and she didn't stop when I killed myself. That was purely a coincidence.”

“Oh. And how do you feel about that?” d'Artagnan asked curiously. The ghost lowered his head a little and looked down at his lap.

“Sad. Because the woman I loved never existed. She was just a small part of something else.”

“You shouldn't blame yourself, you know. You didn't know what she was. You didn't know about her past. You saw something in her which maybe is still there somewhere. It's a shame that she didn't stay the way she was with you, then a lot of good people would still be alive today. But that wasn't your fault either. You were the innocent in all of this, Athos. The one caught in the middle trying to do the right thing in a situation where there just isn't a right thing.”

Athos smiled and looked up at the young man. “You really should keep watching those boring documentaries because it's doing you some good.”

D'Artagnan laughed then reached out and wrapped his puffy coat covered arms around the ghost. “I'm glad you're back. I'm glad you didn't leave us,” he mumbled against Athos' cheek.

“Hot chocolate is ready!” They heard a yell from indoors and d'Artagnan pulled back with a grin.

“Oh my favourite,” he said and got himself up. Athos watched him go and then got up as well, despite the fact he couldn't drink anything. When he went inside the living-room he was confused when he realised that Treville was staring right at him.

“What?” Athos asked.

“I can see you,” Treville pointed out. “You look...different than I had imagined.”

“What did you think he looked like?” d'Artagnan asked amused as he went over to Constance to give her a hug and a kiss before grabbing his mug of hot chocolate off the kitchen-side.

“I don't know,” Treville admitted, leaning back in his chair to examine the ghost which he could finally see. “Smart, clean-shaven, square-jawed, perfect hair, rich, that sort of thing. But yet here you are looking like a scruffy cave-man.”

D'Artagnan laughed as Athos couldn't quite decide if he should be offended.

\-------------------------

“Would you like...” d'Artagnan looked down at the two things in his hands. One was a bowl, the other a plate. “Ben and Jerry's peanut butter cup ice-cream or a warm pain au chocolat?”

“Ice-cream,” the shivering vampire request. “Quick, before it melts.”

D'Artagnan smiled and went over with them both but put the pain au chocolat down on the floor so he could feed Aramis the ice-cream with the spoon.

“I'm sorry you're having to go through this again, Aramis,” d'Artagnan said with a sigh as he push some ice-cream into the vampire's mouth. Junk food did always seem to cheer Aramis up. Aramis with a mouth full of peanut butter cup smiled up at him. “Hopefully this will be the last time, ay?”

After the vampire had swallowed and licked his lips he chuckled a little. “I doubt it. But I like your wishful thinking. You can come visit more often.”

D'Artagnan seemed pleased with the request. “Well, Porthos asked me to take care of you for a couple of hours. He's going to spend time with Athos or something.” D'Artagnan didn't pay much attention to the huge grin which spread across Aramis' face but his smile quickly faded when d'Artagnan added, “And Constance is busy making the house less bachelor-pad like now that she's permantly living here as well.”

“What's she doing?!” the vampire squealed right before a wave of convulsions hit him. D'Artagnan panicked at first, seeing Aramis suddenly go into a seizure was shocking to watch, in fact he almost dropped the bowl of ice-cream reaching out and trying to calm the vampire. But the shivers didn't last very long and Aramis just sighed with tiredness once it was over and pushed himself up back in the seat again.

“Don't stress about it,” d'Artagnan reassured him. “I think it just involves some flowers and clean tea-towels or something. She's also going to make some new curtains for the living-room.”

Aramis was at least pleased about the last one so he sighed in defeat and opened his mouth for more ice-cream.

“We can watch our favourite episodes of Doctor Who on your ipad once you've finished eating,” d'Artagnan suggested but then his happiness seemed to fade and he looked a little nervous as he put more ice-cream into Aramis' mouth. “But, Aramis, I need your advise about something.”

Aramis nodded as he ate to encourage d'Artagnan to continue. D'Artagnan's cheeks started to go a little red as he continued.

“Well, you see, Constance and I have been sharing a bed for a while now and we do lots of...things. I mean like kissing and touching and...stuff. But we've never gone all the way and I wasn't sure if I was doing something wrong?”

Aramis snorted and smiled up at the youngster. “Why do you think you're doing something wrong?”

“Well,” d'Artagnan gave a little shrug. “Because surely with us sharing a bed, if it was going to happen it would have happened by now?”

“D'Artagnan,” Aramis said sternly which got d'Artagnan's attention because Aramis hardly every used his full name. “There are no rules to it and I know she loves you. It hasn't been that long and she's just Constance, she's a romantic so you have to make it romantic for her. Run her a scented bubble-bath with candles and, don't join her, just serve her champagne whilst she has a soak and talk to her about her day. Maybe play classical music in the bedroom one evening and buy new bed-sheets and put flowers around the room. Give her a massage or something, take your time and make it special. Make it clear that you're ready to take things further if she is but don't pressure her, just keep showing her that you love her and, in time, it'll happen naturally.”

D'Artagnan began to smile and visibly relax. “Okay, yes I'll do that then. Man, you and Athos are great with advice.”

“Did you ask him about this?” Aramis asked, amused.

“No, no,” d'Artagnan said. “Athos is the dating expert, you're the sex expert.”

That made Aramis smile. “I accept the description.”

\-------------------------------------

“Was thinking that maybe we could go and visit baby Henry again?”

“Why would I want to go and visit the baby again?” Athos mumbled as he stood by the book-shelf where he had carefully placed all of his books just a few days before. He never thought he'd see them again and he was secretly pleased that he was because he hadn't read half of them.

“Oh yeah, you don't like children,” Porthos said and looked down at his feet embarrassed. He was trying to think of ways to spend time with the ghost but was, so far, not coming up with anything Athos wanted to do. But the ghost partly knew what was going on so turned his attention back to Porthos.

“However, if you would like to visit the Court of Miracles again, I am more than happy to accompany you.”

Porthos' face lit up. “Really? Great! Let me give Flea a quick call to check she's there.”

Porthos grabbed the phone out of his pocket and dialed Flea's number. She didn't answer which he thought was strange because usually she did. So he tried one more time and, on the second attempt, it was answered and he was greeted by Flea shouting down the phone.

“Porthos! The vampires, they're here!!”

“What?” Porthos asked, wondering why she was shouting.

“They're attacking the court!” Flea yelled and then there were some screams in the background. “Porthos!!” Flea herself cried and then there was a thud and a buzzing noise.

“Flea?” Porthos called but there was no response. “FLEA?!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [...well three more chapters gives me plenty of time for one FINAL drama ;)]


	38. Don't you hurt my ghost!

Porthos' hands were shaking with shock as he lowered the phone away from his ear. Athos could immediately tell that something was very wrong.

“What is it?” he enquired.

“Vampires are attacking the court,” Porthos explained, frozen to the spot but then, as a burst of panic surged through him, he turned and raced out into the hallway.

“Porthos! Wait!” Athos said and hurried off after him. “What can you do?” he asked when he caught up with the werewolf who was shoving on his boots. “You're not in wolf form, you'll be killed. We need to come up with a plan.”

“What plan?!” Porthos barked. Once his boots were on he reached up for his coat. “The plan is to go down there and help.”

“How?” Athos asked, still not entirely sure what difference one single man could do against a gang of vampires.

“I don't know! But I can't just stay here!” Porthos responded then swung the front door open, stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind himself.

Athos sighed and Constance poked her head around the doorway from the kitchen.

“Why was he yelling?” she asked curiously.

“The Court is under attack. I have to go with Porthos,” Athos explained. “You two stay here with Aramis. Don't tell him.”

And, with that, Athos phased through the front-door leaving Constance standing there on her own. She sighed and glanced up at the ceiling thinking about the vampire in the chair.

\---------------------

Porthos was driving insanely erratic and, whilst Athos wasn't afraid for his own life, he was worried about Porthos.

“Calm down,” Athos suggested. “If you die on the way then you won't be-able to help them at all.”

“Fuck,” Porthos was muttering. “Fuck, fuck. We knew this would happen. We knew it. They should have moved out of the court. We should have done something.”

“Porthos,” Athos said, trying to get the attention of the distressed werewolf. “Are there other packs we can call on for help? We need assistance on the matter.”

“There are other packs but I don't really know them and, Athos, we haven't got the time.”

“Porthos,” Athos turned in the car-seat to properly look at him. “You're one man and I'm one ghost. If there is a huge gang of vampires currently attacking the court, what do you expect us to do?”

“Try and save some lives.”

\------------------------------

“What's going on?” Aramis asked when Constance appeared in the attic a few minutes later. D'Artagnan was sitting beside the chair holding up the ipad and they were watching Doctor Who together but d'Artagnan lowered it as soon as Constance came in and joined them both.

“Nothing,” she promised...lied. She tried to smile as well and swing her dress as she came closer. “Just checking you're both okay.”

“Constance,” d'Artagnan looked just as concerned as the vampire. “Has something happened?”

“Oh my goodness gracious!” Constance cried out. “How do you both know? What am I doing?”

“You have this worry line on your forehead when you're really upset or stressed,” Aramis explained.

“And you have it right now.” D'Artagnan pointed out in agreement.

Constance sighed in defeat. She couldn't keep it from Aramis even if Athos had asked her to. “Promise me you won't freak out?” she requested even though she knew full well that he would. The sweaty vampire tilted his head to the side in a 'tell me' manner so she just blurted it out.

“Vampires are attacking the Court of Miracles. Porthos and Athos have gone over there.”

“What?!” Aramis cried and immediately tugged at the straps around his wrists. “Let me out! I have to go!”

Constance sighed, he was reacting as expected. “Aramis, you know we...”

“Let me out!” Aramis screamed, his eyes full of alarm. “I'm not playing games and trying to manipulate you. My god, you have to let me go and help.”

“Aramis,” d'Artagnan also tried to calm the vampire down. “You're in no state to go and help.”

“He'll be killed,” Aramis pointed out, turning to the human sitting beside him. “Porthos will be killed. You have to let me go. You can't force me to sit here whilst he's killed by vampires. You must let me go. Please!!” He tugged at the restraints more furiously. “I can't just stay here! The werewolves, they have no protection when they're in human form. Please God save them...please....just let me out of this chair!!”

Aramis was thrashing about, so much that d'Artagnan moved away a little fearfully. He looked up at Constance who was on the verge of tears.

“Constance,” d'Artagnan said. “I'm not sure I can just sit here whilst the court is under attack either. We should all go. What about baby Henry and Agnes?”

“And what would we do against all the vampires?” Constance asked, wiping away a tear from her cheek which had leaked from her eye. She was terribly worried about Porthos, Athos and all of the werewolves but Athos told them to stay and she didn't know what to do.

“We can make stakes,” d'Artagnan suggested as he got up onto his feet. “I don't want you to come, Constance, I can go with Aramis. He's right, we can't just stay here.”

Constance thought about it for another few seconds then sighed with defeat. She didn't want to stay in the house either. “Fine, you let Aramis go and I'll go call a taxi. If we're doing this, we all go together.”

\---------------------------

When Porthos pulled up in the car there wasn't much of an outward sign that anything was wrong but, as they ran closer to the court, it soon became clear that something wasn't right. The first thing they came across was a door left wide open which led into the court and, just inside, a body lay on the ground. Porthos immediately fell to his knees and reached out to check the young man's pulse but he couldn't find one. Blood had pooled on his chest from various knife wounds.

“Is he dead?” Athos asked, standing over the pair of them.

“Yes,” Porthos said, his hand shaking. “This is actually happening.”

Porthos got back up onto his feet and looked around. There was a skip nearby out in the alley and he immediately stormed over to it. He rustled around until he found an old broken wooden chair which he picked up and promptly smashed against the ground. Then he used his foot to break the chair-leg in two. He picked up two pieces of snapped wood and gave one to Athos. The ghost suddenly realised that he had been making stakes.

“You alright with this?” Porthos asked, staring at the ghost. Athos nodded. If the vampires were killing people, he had no problem with driving a stake through their hearts. “Remember vampires can still hurt you, Athos, so be careful, okay?”

Athos nodded again. “Porthos, vampires can do more than just hurt you, you can be killed. So you be more careful, okay?”

“I will,” Porthos choked and then suddenly wrapped his arms around Athos and pulled him in for a brief tight-hug. “Thank you for doing this.” When he pulled away he stared at the ghost for a moment and then, before he really knew what he was doing, placed a quick kiss against the ghost's lips before letting go. He was too distracted by his heart pounding in terror at the situation to really think about what he had just done although Athos felt confused.

Still, when Porthos began to move back through the door which led into the court, Athos followed. Usually it was locked from the inside, the vampires must have either charmed, tricked or fought their way in. The first thing they heard were screams and the first thing they saw were a couple of vampires running around the open central court area, chasing terrified humans and werewolves. There were more bodies on the ground one of which Porthos had to step over as he surveyed the scene. It didn't take him long to jump into action.

Porthos immediately raced up behind a male vampire with a mohawk who was chasing a young human girl across the court, teasing her with his superior speed like he was a hound and she was a hunted fox. Porthos grabbed the vampire by the neck and, not expecting the attack from behind, the vampire barely had time to think before Porthos reached around and plunged the stake into his chest. Porthos let go as he felt the vampire shake and start to crumble. The girl had disappeared but Porthos had managed to catch the attention of the other two female vampires in the court who were now stalking towards him like he was their next prey.

Athos went over and stood beside the werewolf. Two against two felt like more even odds, even though the vampires were clearly vastly superior in skill but that didn't mean Porthos and Athos were going to make it easy for them. They were soon distracted, however, by a scream and suddenly a body flew off the roof and hit the concrete floor with a bloody thud. Porthos glanced briefly but then turned away, he could barely control the rage bubbling up inside.

\--------------------------

“Man, you don't look well,” d'Artagnan said, leaning over Aramis in the back of the taxi cab. Aramis was sweaty profusely and every few seconds he was shivering all over.

“Just get me there,” he whispered weakly, his back arching into the car-seat as another bout of convulsions hit him.

“You should get him to a hospital,” the driver told them all. “He doesn't look well at all.”

“He's fine,” Constance reassured the driver with a bright ever-so-fake smile. “Junk food withdrawal is just a messy business.”

The driver appeared confused but they were almost there and he pulled over just a block down from where the Court of Miracles was hidden by a bunch of high-rise apartments.

“We're there,” Constance said and started digging in her purse for some money to pay the driver.

“Be careful here, love,” the driver said, sounding concerned. “This isn't a nice place. Full of people that'll snatch that purse right off you the second you turn your back.”

She frowned at him and snatched back his tip.

\-----------------------------

Athos held onto his arm as he followed Porthos through a door into the old buildings which lined the open court-yard.

“You alright?” Porthos asked behind him.

“I assume I'll heal,” Athos pointed out which made Porthos nod although he worried because he really had no-idea and the vampire had bitten into Athos pretty hard. Still, apart from a few bodies out in the court-yard, most of the residents of the court were missing and Porthos had to find them; he had to find Flea. He heard yelling, screaming and crashing coming from all around the court but he couldn't figure out where the vast majority of the werewolves and humans would be. He kicked doors open and grabbed a human who was running away in the opposite direction.

“Where are they all?” he asked, holding on the teenager's dirty t-shirt. The lad blinked at Porthos blankly and didn't respond. Porthos sighed and let him go, the human continued to run away. A male scream coming further down the corridor soon had Porthos' attention and he went racing over. He burst into a room to discover a human lying on the ground, covered in his own blood as he was being fed on by three hungry vampires.

Porthos roared, lifted up his stake and attacked. He pulled one of the vampire's off and immediately dug the stake into its chest before it had the chance to blink but another vampire jumped onto Porthos' back and scratched at his neck with her long finger-nails. Porthos felt his skin being cut open and he tried to spin around to get the vampire off but then he was suddenly pulled backwards and they both went crashing to the ground. Porthos landed heavily on the vampire beneath him where he saw Athos towering over them. The ghost had obviously tried to help.

“Roll over!” Athos ordered and Porthos did so, freeing the vampire from underneath his back. Athos promptly shoved a stake hard into her chest. The third vampire was still feeding until he looked up from his dinner with blood covering his face and hissed furiously. Suddenly crashing and yelling came from the corridor outside and that got Porthos' attention just long enough to give the vampire a chance to leap to his feet and attack. The vampire was strong and sent Porthos crashing into the wall. Athos immediately jumped forward to help but the vampire shoved Athos away and the ghost was thrown backwards onto the floor.

“Don't you hurt my ghost!” Porthos said firmly, trying to push the vampire away from him.

“Your ghost will be the only one left by the end of the day,” the vampire said with some glee, a smile on his face as his teeth pushed forward and Porthos had to strain himself to keep the teeth away from his neck.

“I thought my blood was poisonous to you?” Porthos growled, his arms shaking with the effort of holding the vampire back.

“I'll put up with the bad stomach,” the vampire informed him before swinging his arm and thumping Porthos hard in the stomach. It knocked the wind out of Porthos and his arms gave way. But then there was a smash of glass and the vampire moved to cover his face. Whilst the room was spinning for the werewolf he managed to spot Athos standing there with the broken top of a bottle in his hand.

Porthos stood himself up, even though he felt like he couldn't breathe, and staggered over to the vampire but the vampire recovered quickly and just squealed with delight. He seemed to bounce off the walls before disappearing out through the door-way. The human on the ground was moaning and Athos promptly went over to kneel down beside the man.

“It's okay,” Athos reassured him. “You're going to be fine.”

Porthos could see teeth marks littering the man's body where clothing had been torn away. He wasn't entirely sure that Athos' promise was an honest one but he waited as the ghost comforted the terrified man for a moment until he remembered about the noises outside. He peeked his head out just in time to see a gang of werewolves fighting the vampire who had just escaped from the room. He recognised one of the gang members straight away...Charon.

Porthos staggered out into the hallway, quite certain that he'd broken a rib and smiled at Charon just as the werewolves dispatched the vampire and turned him into a pile of dust.

“Porthos!” Charon smiled. “Thank fuck you're here. Did Flea call for help?”

Porthos nodded because he couldn't speak to explain that wasn't quite how it happened. Charon came closer with three other werewolves.

“We managed to get most people locked up in the safe room,” Charon explained. “It's locked from the inside and there's only one thick door in and out. But everyone else is around the court hiding or trying to escape.”

“I'll help,” Porthos said when he was finally able to speak. The safe room, yes Flea had mentioned something about them building a safe room. He had forgotten all about it. Athos soon stepped outside into the corridor and shook his head at Porthos which Porthos knew meant the man had died.

Charon looked over at Athos then turned back to his friend. “Is your vampire friend here? How many others did you bring?”

Porthos, looking a little sheepishly, shrugged apologetically. “Just us two I'm afraid.”

Charon didn't do a good job of hiding his surprise. “Just two of you? Fuck, Porthos. There's about twenty vampires. Almost half of them are banging on the door to the safe room but we can leave those there for the time-being as they won't get in. We need to hunt down those killing people.”

“I have been,” Porthos pointed out. “Where's Flea? Where's the children and the baby?”

“They're nearly all in the safe room,” Charon told them. “Flea's looking after them all but...well...we don't know where Agnes and the baby are. She was taking him for a walk in a pram around the court when the attack happened.”

“Fuck,” Porthos growled. “We need to find them. The vampires would love to get their hands on a werewolf pup.”

Charon nodded. “Then help me look!” He said and gripped onto his stake harder before dashing off.

Aramis, d'Artagnan and Constance easily managed to find their way into the court considering no-one was guarding the door. Although, as they tried to get in, an older werewolf lady with a young human girl were scrambling to get out of the court. The old lady told them not to go in, to stay away but then she took one look at Aramis, staggered backwards before dragging the girl off and they both promptly disappeared.

D'Artagnan looked at Aramis, wondering if the vampire was going to take offence at the woman's obvious fear of him but the vampire had a look of determination on his face, even though he was flinching each time he took a step. The echoes of people shouting filled the corridor which they walked across before stepping out into the open court-yard. Constance gasped as she noticed all of the bodies dotted around the grass and paths of the court and closed her eyes, leaning against d'Artagnan who immediately put his arm around her.

“You two need to get the hell out of here,” Aramis said as he surveyed the carnage. “Please. I'm in no state to protect you.”

“We don't need your protection,” d'Artagnan told him, frowning heavily in a hope that it would stop the tears. “We want to help.”

Constance nodded against his shoulder then sniffed, lifting up her face. “Too bloody right we do,” she said.

Aramis sighed and looked back at them, admiring the humans for their foolish bravely. “Fine, then I have an idea. Go back out of the court. I'll send the humans and werewolves out to you. You look after them. The vampire's won't risk attacking people out on the streets, it's too public. You'll be safer out there than you are in here. You can tend to any wounded.”

The humans both thought about it then, deciding that it sounded quite sensible, nodded.

“See you in a bit,” Aramis promised as he watched them both leave. Once they were out of sight he felt relieved. If either of them got hurt by a vampire he would have never forgiven himself. But he missed their physical support as he staggered out of the court-yard and back into the surrounding buildings. His sensitive hearing was in overdrive; he heard growling, screaming, crashing and banging. There was so much going on that he couldn't focus his senses. But then something did get his attention above everything else, a woman was crying; not in pain but in despair. He latched onto that sound and stumbled towards it.

Then he heard footsteps, a stampede of boots was coming towards him. So Aramis ducked and hid in a doorway, keeping perfectly still as a gang raced past him. It was a furious group of werewolves and humans. At least you're fighting back, Aramis thought with a weird sense of pride. Once the gang had gone past Aramis came back out again and tried to find the crying woman.

Eventually he picked up the noise again and staggered down the corridor until he found the room where it was coming from. A violent shiver of withdrawal hit him just as he stepped foot inside the damp room. He reached out onto the door-frame to try and keep himself on his feet, fingers gripping into the wood until the spasms had subsided. He felt completely drained by it and almost fell to the ground as he took another step but then he saw who was crying. There was a woman with red-hair curled up in the corner, wailing loudly. Aramis sniffed and discovered that she was a werewolf.

“Shhh,” he encouraged. “Keep quiet.”

But she wouldn't keep quiet, she just sobbed. Aramis moved into the room and then noticed that she was tied-up. Although she was sitting on the floor her wrists were attached to the bed by some metal chains; like she was a treat someone was saving for later. As soon as she noticed Aramis in the room she tried to push herself back against the wall cowering away from him.

“Haven't you done enough?! Why are you doing this?!” she cried angrily.

“No, no,” Aramis protested and finally fell to his knees a couple of metres in front of her. “I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a good-friend of Porthos. I'm here to help. Please, let me untie your hands.”

The woman eyed him up for a moment then suddenly flung herself forward, the chain on her wrists clinking as she pulled on them.

“If that's true then forget about me. They have my son, they have my baby!!” The woman told him and Aramis' chest suddenly felt tight. Red-hair...was this...

“Agnes?” he asked and she nodded furiously.

“He took my baby,” she wailed and buried her face into his arm as she wept.

“Who? A vampire?” Aramis asked, perhaps the answer was obvious but he had to make sure. She lifted up her head and, with tears covering her face, sniffed before speaking.

“A blond vampire. He was ordering the others about. He had this nasty smirk, I swear he was pure evil. He took Henry. He said that the King would like his present and it was his golden ticket into the coven. Please...oh please...don't let them hurt him.”

Aramis' eyes went wide. “Fucking Rochefort...”

 


	39. I never stopped loving you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [It's the penultimate chapter...ahhhh!! Well at least until I have a break and write other stuff for a while.
> 
> Warning - Violence, lots of it and sadness, lots of that as well.
> 
> ...I promise the story will have a happy ending.]
> 
>   
> Made by Isalen

Aramis helped Agnes get out of the court and pointed her towards where he hoped Constance and d'Artagnan still were. He hated leaving the distraught woman but he knew that he had to find Rochefort quickly before Rochefort found his way back to the Paris coven with the baby.

So he closed his eyes and tried to block out the noises going on around him; the shouts, the screams, the hammering on something made of metal. He ignored all of that as he focused on his bond with Rochefort. He could feel it, the warmth in his chest which told him that his young vampire was close. Then his ears picked something up, Rochefort's voice, he was talking to someone and a baby was crying. Opening his eyes again Aramis had a sense that he knew which direction to go in and he immediately began running only to be reminded by his body that he was still weak and he stumbled, having to reach out towards the wall to steady himself as his muscles tensed with cramps.

“Not now,” he whispered to himself. “Please not now.” His right leg almost gave way, he reached out and held onto the back of his hamstring, willing it to stay strong. Then he attempted to slowly limp forward. He hobbled through the corridors of the courts and vaguely heard Porthos' voice coming from somewhere and, as much as he desperately wanted to help Porthos, he knew that he had to save the baby first. Porthos would have wanted it that way.

So he continued, his body tingling and telling him when he was getting close. He heard a door swinging in the wind and eventually found it. The door led out onto the side-streets and he could smell Rochefort; Rochefort must have only left the court a moment ago. Somehow Aramis got his legs to work fast enough to duck through the door-way and jog down a path between the court and a cheap apartment block and that's when he finally saw Rochefort, he was almost down the other end about to disappear out into the streets of Paris.

“Rochefort!” He shouted to get his attention.

Rochefort froze to the spot and slowly turned. He looked back at Aramis confused and Aramis instantly saw the baby wrapped up in Rochefort's arms.

“Aramis?” Rochefort asked, squinting as if he couldn't quite believe it. Aramis staggered a little closer but slowly, not wanting to frighten Rochefort away.

“The one and only,” Aramis said with a bit of a smile. He was no state to attack Rochefort, he knew that much, he'd have to use his brains instead of his body.

“You managed to escape the after-life then?” Rochefort asked, perhaps needlessly.

Aramis nodded and continued to try and smile. “It's okay, Rochefort, I forgive you. I know I upset you.”

Rochefort seemed surprised by the mercy for a moment and, worryingly for Aramis, pulled the baby tighter against his chest. “You did upset me,” Rochefort pointed out. “I was jealous I...I didn't mean to push you in. I just had a moment of madness.”

Is that what you fucking call it, you fruitcake? Aramis thought inside his head but managed to keep a lid on the rage which was bubbling up inside of him. “Don't worry,” is what he managed to outwardly say. “I'm back now. Things are good again. They...let you into the coven?”

Rochefort's face suddenly lit up and his grip relaxed on the baby who had started screaming. “Yes! Richelieu told me to prove myself. So I'm proving myself. I brought the vampire's here.”

Aramis felt furious. He felt so angry that he could barely control himself. Angry at Rochefort and angry at himself. If he hadn't turned Rochefort into a vampire then those dead in the court would still be...

“You're disappointed?” Rochefort asked and Aramis realised that his face was obviously giving away his true feelings.

“I...” Aramis wasn't sure if he should continue to lie. He took another cautious step forward. “...I don't believe that vampires and werewolves should be at war.”

“Oh,” Rochefort nodded and even began bouncing baby Henry in his arms in an attempt to soothe the child although his attention was more on his maker. “I don't care much about werewolves either way. I'm just doing this to prove myself and get into the coven and look, now I have something even better.” He finally looked down at the child. “This is a werewolf pup. King Louis would like to have him I'm sure.”

“Rochefort, the baby needs to be with its mother,” Aramis said sternly. Rochefort was meant to obey his orders after all so he was worth a try. Rochefort looked up from the child in his arms and back to Aramis.

“I did say that she could come but she didn't seem to want to. I had to tie her up. Perhaps one of the other vampires will feed on her and put her out of her misery.”

Aramis wanted to strangle the man so much that his arms tensed. He also managed to take another few steps forward and soon he was only a couple of metres away from the blond vampire.

“Rochefort, give me the baby,” Aramis ordered and held out his arms and, for a brief moment, Rochefort actually moved to give the baby to him, as if his body was telling him to obey but then realisation of his actions kicked in and he tugged the baby back again.

“Don't do this!” Aramis barked as he dropped his arms back down. “The child will become their slave. They'll train him to kill other werewolves. I've seen it happen before. Don't do this, Rochefort.”

“But this will get me into the coven,” Rochefort said, almost pathetically like a boy wanting to be accepted into a gang with all the other cool kids.

“No it won't,” Aramis hissed sternly. “Richelieu is just using you to do his dirty work like he always did. Nothing has changed. Look, you're still out here obeying his orders.”

“Only for a short time!” Rochefort yelled to defend himself. “Soon Louis will like me better than Richelieu. Soon _I'll_ be second-in-command.”

“You think Richelieu will let that happen? Rochefort, he'll kill you first.”

The baby was making enough noise that Aramis was quite certain he was probably getting the attention of all of the neighbours but worrying about vampires finally being exposed was the last thing on his mind. Seeing the innocent, vulnerable werewolf in the arms of a monster, was making Aramis so afraid that he staggered even closer and tried to grab the baby but Rochefort pulled the child away. Aramis sighed in frustration, not knowing what to do. Only Rochefort suddenly turned to walk over to a dumpster and there he placed the baby down on the ground beside it.

Aramis was confused for a moment until Rochefort stood up and Aramis could see the craziness in his eyes. Suddenly Rochefort growled and before Aramis had time to think about it, Rochefort was running towards him and flung himself at him. Aramis fell backwards and landed heavily on his back. Rochefort attacked him, digging his teeth into Aramis' neck, Aramis screamed and tried to push Rochefort away but his arms were too weak. As Rochefort's sharp teeth dug in deeper, Aramis managed to at least bend his leg and shove Rochefort in the stomach with his knee to push him off. But when Rochefort was forced away he took a chunk of Aramis' skin with him.

Aramis reached up to hold onto his bleeding neck, his own eyes were black and his own teeth were out which gave him a little more energy but he knew that he was no match for Rochefort who was high on blood.

“Rochefort,” Aramis gasped, sitting up on the ground. Rochefort was smirking at him whilst on his hands and knees. Aramis staggered up onto his feet and wobbled to get away but Rochefort soon got up onto his own feet and went for Aramis again.

This time Aramis was more prepared and he managed to fight back with every ounce of power he still had left in him. He swung his fist and hit Rochefort in the face so hard that Rochefort's head snapped back. Aramis knew that he had to get Rochefort away from the baby so he ran further down the alley-way and jumped up onto a ladder which was hanging against the side of the apartment block.

He held on tightly as Rochefort went for him again. Rochefort's teeth bit into his leg but Aramis managed to shake his body enough to get Rochefort off only his fingers slipped and he soon went crashing back to the ground. His legs gave way the moment he landed and he fell in a heap which was when he was punched in the back. The force of the hit made his back arch painfully and he gasped at the shock of the blow. Then Rochefort seemed to move away and Aramis gradually staggered back up onto his feet, reaching for his sore back. He groaned as he turned around to face the other vampire. It was then that he realised Rochefort had something in his hand, a knife. Aramis pulled his hand away from his back to discover that his fingers felt warm. He looked down at his hand, it was covered in blood. Rochefort hadn't hit him in the back, he had stabbed him.

“Rochefort no...” Aramis said but Rochefort just glared and ran at him again. This time Aramis managed to hit the arm with the knife before he could be stabbed again and then he thumped Rochefort in the rib-cage which made the vampire stumble back for a brief moment but Rochefort quickly recovered and lunged at Aramis once again.

Aramis' head snapped to the side as he was punched in the face but then he grabbed Rochefort by the clothes and shoved him backwards until he smacked Rochefort up against another dumpster close to where the baby was wailing and crying. Rochefort fell to the ground but then just rolled over and got back up onto his feet. Aramis wiped away some blood from his split lip with the back of his hand and steadied himself for a further attack but then his legs cramped up and he began to shake. This time the convulsions were so powerful that his legs gave way and he fell down onto his knees. The moment of weakness gave Rochefort the chance to run over and drive the knife into his chest. Aramis cried out.

Rochefort pulled the blade back out and, feeling temporarily immobilised Aramis could do little more than just stay kneeling on the ground as Rochefort stabbed him for a third time.

I've failed, Aramis thought silently in his head as the human he himself had turned into a vampire stood over him, stabbing him in the chest for a fourth time with a face full of such rage that Aramis knew he only had himself to blame. Rochefort had done enough damage with his knife to slow Aramis down enough that Rochefort would only need to find a piece of wood and pierce it through his heart and then it would be all over.

“I'm sorry, Porthos,” Aramis whispered to himself. “I'm sorry, Athos. I'm sorry.” He lowered his head in defeat, his body slumping to the side and falling to the ground but, just as he lay there and waited for the final blow to end it all, he heard the scream of a woman and a loud thud.

“You leave him alone!!” A familiar female voice yelled. Aramis looked up from his sideways view on the ground and saw Constance behind the vampire, she was holding a plank of wood and, judging by the way Rochefort had grabbed the back of his head, Constance had obviously given him a bit of a whack with it.

“No,” Aramis said weakly. “No, Constance...” Rochefort would kill her. Rochefort would kill her then kill him and...

“Constance, get the baby!” Aramis heard another voice, one belonging to d'Artagnan.

Constance looked over her shoulder, dropped the plank and ran over to the dumpster. Rochefort had turned to face the human who was gripping a stake in his hand so tightly that Aramis could see his knuckles turning white. Crazy humans, Aramis thought lovingly in his head and he willed his arms to work enough so he could get back up. They shook like mad but he did manage to get onto his knees again where he wobbled for a moment.

He heard Rochefort growl as he went for d'Artagnan. Constance was screaming for d'Artagnan to run. By the time Aramis was on his feet Rochefort was already clawing at the human, d'Artagnan desperately trying to fight him off. Aramis launched himself forward towards them and, with all of his might, grabbed the back of Rochefort's shirt and pulled him off. He immediately wrapped his arms around Rochefort and gripped the struggling vampire tightly against his chest.

“Do it!” He cried to d'Artagnan. He had no-idea how he was even managing to hold Rochefort back but he knew that he would only be-able to do so for a few short seconds. D'Artagnan, face covered in scratches and blood cried out, raised the stake still in his hand before shoving it violently onto Rochefort's chest.

The moment the stake entered his body Rochefort stopped moving but Aramis didn't loosen his grip.

“I'm so sorry,” Aramis whispered into the blond vampire's ear but d'Artagnan was less sympathetic.

“That's for your father!” He spat at the vampire and then his bottom lip began to quiver as he tried to hold back the angry tears.

The noise of sirens approaching distracted d'Artagnan from the dying vampire for a moment and he turned back to look at Constance who had baby Henry in her arms. “Go, Constance! Go and find Porthos and Athos!” D'Artagnan told her. “I'll stay with Aramis. GO!”

Constance looked panicked about what to do for a moment but then ran towards the court with the baby safe in her arms.

Aramis didn't loosen his grip on Rochefort, even as the vampire began to crumble away in his arms. He stayed in the same position until Rochefort had gone, then there was nothing left but a pile of clothes and dust on the ground. The sirens grew louder and the screeching of car-tires made d'Artagnan freeze in shock. At the other end of the side-street, police cars had pulled up with lights flashing. Police officers were soon jumping out of the cars with their guns out, shouting over at the pair of them. D'Artagnan's legs froze up and didn't know what to do. He looked back at Aramis just in time to see the vampire collapse to the ground.

\--------------------------------------

Bright white lights were flashing past his eyes and everything was moving too fast. Aramis heard voices but couldn't make-out what they were saying. Then everything stopped moving with a sudden halt and he was momentarily lifted up into the air being dropped back down. Then there were warm hands touching him and his clothes began to disappear from his body.

He tried to speak, tried to stop them but his voice came out as nothing more than a groan. He began to hear words...four stab wounds, type match blood....he couldn't co-ordinate his arms enough to push them away. Soon things were being stuck onto his chest and he could hear the beeping of a monitor.

“That can't be right,” a woman was saying and tugged the sticky labels off his chest which made him wince before more were place back on. “The machine must be faulty,” she was saying.

“Please...stop...” Aramis whispered, his eyes wouldn't focus and his body wouldn't do what he wanted it to do.

“Shh it's okay,” someone said and his hair was being stroked. “You were stabbed, we're going to help you.”

“No,” Aramis groaned but he felt so woozy that he had to close his eyes but they didn't understand, they couldn't fix him; only fresh blood could.

\--------------------------

Athos watched in horror as d'Artagnan, with a face covered in blood, was shoved into the back of a police car. As soon as the police had turned up and burst into the Court of Miracles, the vampire's promptly disappeared, leaving the police to deal with the confusing aftermath. The police were already interviewing people who had come out from the apartment blocks nearby and were arresting some of those they had found alive inside the court. Ambulances were treating to the wounded and whisking them off to hospital and it was all very chaotic. Athos stood amongst the chaos because he could but what he desperately wanted to do was get d'Artagnan out of the police car.

He walked closer, perhaps he could talk to the lad to tell him not to worry but suddenly a hand reached out and pressed against his chest. It was a policeman and he could clearly see Athos as well as touch him.

“Cool it,” the policeman whispered. “We'll sort this out.”

Athos looked confused as the policeman took his hand away and went off to talk to someone else. Athos could only assume that the cop was also a supernatural creature. D'Artagnan suddenly noticed Athos standing there and he hit his fist against the window of the car to get his attention. Athos tried to mouth 'it's okay' to him just as the car moved and d'Artagnan was driven away.

Athos sighed and went back to where the others were waiting in a closed down cafe the next street away. Flea, Agnes, Charon and a whole group of werewolves and humans, who had been locked in the safe room, were now safely hiding away after escaping the court unnoticed by the police.

“What's going on?” Porthos asked as soon as Athos was back.

“The police have swarmed the court,” Athos explained. “Ambulances are attending to the wounded and they've taken in those we left behind for questioning; including d'Artagnan.”

Constance, who had passed Henry onto his mother, looked like she was going to be sick.

“I left him there. I never should have left him.”

Athos looked at her sympathetically but then he turned his attention back to Porthos. “I think Aramis was put into an ambulance. They probably think d'Artagnan stabbed him. But a policeman spoke to me and said that they'll sort this out...whatever that means.”

Flea stepped forward to join in the conversation. “A lot of cops are vampires and a whole lot of other cops are paid by vampires. They'll twist it into a story of a gang-land hit or a crazy bunch of religious fanatics with knives.”

“Oh, Flea,” Porthos sighed and wrapped up the blonde in his arms. She snuggled against him, still holding back the tears and trying to stay strong for the others.

“You go,” she whispered against her chest. “Go to the hospital and find Aramis. Charon and I can stay here and help everyone else.”

Constance turned to Agnes and placed her hand gently on the mother's shoulder. Agnes was over-joyed to be reunited with her unharmed baby.

“Thank you,” she whispered to Constance. “And please thank your vampire friend for me.”

\-----------------------------------

When Aramis woke up again he heard two voices talking.

“We can't operate until we've stabilised him but his heart-beat is...unusual. We're waiting for the cardiac consultant to come down so we're making him as comfortable as possible in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” a soft female voice said and then Aramis felt a warm hand pressing on his bare arm. He tried to open his eyes but everything was too bright. So he turned his head to the side, licked his dry lips and eventually managed to open his eyes enough to see who was sitting next to him. It was an extraordinarily beautiful older woman and she was smiling at him.

“Hello,” Adele said softly.

“Adele...” Aramis managed to croak out. “What are you....” His back hurt so much that he tried to move into a better position but that only made it hurt all the more and he flinched.

“Hey, don't try and move, you stubborn man. You've been stabbed. Aramis...” she leaned froward in her wheelchair to whisper into his ear so that the nurse pottering around the trauma room couldn't hear. “They're worried about your heartbeat.”

“Fuck,” Aramis groaned. Everything hurt. Everything hurt and he didn't have enough blood to heal himself. “I need to get out of here.”

“Aramis, you've been stabbed three times in the chest and once in your spine. You can't go anywhere.”

“Why...why are you still here?” Aramis asked, his throat still dry and his voice weak and croaky. “I thought you'd be in the hospice by now?”

“It was delayed because I had a bad reaction to some of the pain medication. I was being wheeled out to go when I saw you being wheeled in.” She seemed to briefly look around to check that no-one was paying them much attention as she continued. “I told them you were my nephew. They're letting me stay for a couple of hours.”

Aramis smiled a little, trying to move once again to get in a position which didn't feel like something was pressing into his back but, once again, it just hurt to even attempt it. “You'd better not kiss me then,” he suggested.

“Aramis, what do you need? Do you need blood?”

Aramis nodded slowly but even that hurt and he winced. “Y-yes. My body can't make new blood.” His chest began to feel tight. “Adele...something's...wrong...” he managed to say just before his chest felt so tight that he was gasping for air. His fingers gripped onto the bed-sheet in a panic. Something was really wrong, it felt like an elephant sitting on his chest. Even vampire's need to breathe in order to talk and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs to do so.

“Nurse!” Adele yelled and a the nurse immediately came over and examined Aramis. It didn't take her long to press the panic button on the wall.

“His lungs are collapsing,” she explained to Adele who was wheeled out of the way as more nurses and doctors flooded in.

\---------------------------------

D'Artagnan looked around the interview room nervously. Whilst he realised that being found next to a man who had been stabbed and the offending knife being at his feet, probably didn't make things look good for him, he couldn't believe that they'd think he had tried to kill his friend. As soon as the door opened he was about to tell the detective as much but he was immediately silenced.

“M'name is Gus and you listen to me,” the balding man told him as he closed the door and came over to the table which d'Artagnan was sitting patiently behind like a good criminal; they had at least cleaned his face up and put plasters over the cuts.

“We know that a crazy man wielding daggers went into the Court on a murderous rampage and we know you were innocently trying to help someone who had been stabbed.”

D'Artagnan looked up at 'Gus' shocked. “But that's not what...”

Gus' eyes started going black and, when he opened his mouth again, he displayed his sharp vampire teeth. D'Artagnan immediately swallowed and tried to sink into his chair.

“That _is_ what happened,” Gus growled and d'Artagnan nodded in obedience. Gus threw the pad of paper down onto the table. “Good, then let's get that in writing.”

\-----------------------------

“What's going on?” Aramis asked when he came round again. It made Adele look up, she had been drifting off herself, she never seemed able to stay awake very long thanks to all of the medication they had put her on.

“They're talking about you outside,” she informed him, tugging her wheelchair closer to be beside him again. “They're confused because your heart-beat is so weak and slow. They don't understand it. They need to operation but they're worried you'll just die on the table.”

Aramis soaked up all of the information then let out a shaky sigh. “I need to get out of here,” he said and tried to sit up.

“Aramis, stop,” Adele told him and reached out with a frail arm and attempted to press it against his shoulder. “Darling, you've got a tube sticking out of your chest.”

Aramis lifted his head up which immediately made him feel dizzy but he managed it enough to discover that she was right, he did indeed have a white tube sticking out of his chest.

“It's keeping one of your lungs inflated,” Adele explained. “If they gave you a blood transfusion, would that help?”

Aramis tried to shake his head but couldn't quite manage it. “No, that would do more harm than good. We need blood in our stomach's. I don't know why. Oh god, Adele, you have to help me get out of here. They can't ever find out what I am.”

“You can't move. What about if I find a bag of blood?”

“I won't heal fast enough unless it's fresh from a human,” Aramis told her but he was looking up at the ceiling trying to stop himself from having a panic attack. “Can you get to a phone and call Porthos?”

“I'll try,” Adele promised. “If you tell me his number but, Aramis, you can drink from someone, you can drink from me.”

“No,” Aramis promptly said. That wasn't even an option as far as he was concerned.

“Why not?” Adele leaned forward and pressed her elbow onto the bed. “I'm right here and I'm offering.”

“You're too weak” Aramis explained, turning his head to look at her.

“I'm dying anyway,” she pointed out, sounding remarkably calm about it. “They say I only have a few weeks left and I'll spend most of that in agony.”

“No,” Aramis whispered, tears filling his eyes. “I can't kill you.”

“You won't be killing me,” she pointed out. “The cancer is killing me. Aramis, please, let me help you get out of here. You once told me if humans found out about vampires and werewolves, it would cause pandemonium. Humans would panic and start hunting supernatural creatures down which would make vampires fight back and it would start a war.”

“Well that's the dramatic version,” Aramis said and suddenly his chest hurt so badly that he had to pause for a moment and wait for the pain to pass. “Adele, I can't.”

She began to move, pushing herself up on the bed slowly. She almost collapsed back into the chair but somehow managed to crawl up onto the mattress. Aramis did his best to move across to give her room as she spooned up beside him and wrapped her arm around his naked stomach carefully.

“I never stopped loving you,” she whispered into his ear.

When the nurse came back in to check on Aramis a little later he found Aramis sobbing on the bed with Adele lying lifeless curled up against him. The nurse tried to ask Aramis what was wrong but Aramis couldn't even get any words out, he just continued to cry. It was then the nurse noticed that Adele's lips were blue.

He immediately pressed the panic alarm and then rolled Adele away from Aramis and onto her back. Another nurse hurried in followed by a doctor. The doctor reached out and checked Adele's pulse but couldn't find one.

“She must be a DNR,” the second nurse explained quickly. “She's an end stage cancer patient. I was speaking to her earlier whilst she was waiting for a lift to a hospice.” The other nurse nodded but the doctor ordered her to find out to be sure. The first nurse looked down at the inconsolable vampire. “I'm sorry about your aunt, love, but at least she died in someone's arms.”

Thankfully they didn't see the bite marks on the back of her neck and the morgue would cover up the truth about her death, just like Aramis had always done when he had worked down there. Still, not being caught didn't make it hurt less for Aramis and he couldn't stop the tears.

 


	40. Uno should be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hard to post this! But it's not the end, only a pause. Hopefully in the meantime you'll like my new story which I'll start posting in a few days. It's a different type of story from this one, written in a different type of way but it's still a modern AU so I hope you'll all give it a chance...I promise that the relationships develop a hell of a lot faster than they did in this one.
> 
>   
> Made by Isalen

When Porthos turned up at the hospital he went straight to the emergency room reception which was busy and Porthos barely had the patience to wait in line but he did so, nervously waiting to discover where Aramis was.

“I'm looking for a friend of mine. He was a victim of the attack at the Court of Miracles.”

“What's his name?” the busy and stressed receptionist asked and Porthos gave the name Aramis even though he had no-idea if Aramis would have even used his real name and if Aramis had even managed to say anything at all. Porthos' fingers tapped the reception desk impatiently as the receptionist searched on the computer.

“I'm sorry, I can't find him on our system but that doesn't mean he isn't here. He was definitely a victim of the attack?”

Porthos nodded. “I think he was stabbed a couple of times. They must have brought him here.”

“Let me find out for you, the ambulances brought a few people in,” the receptionist said then walked off for a moment. By the time she had returned a few minutes later Porthos was pacing.

“There was a man brought in with stab wounds but he won't give us his name. Dark brown curly hair?” she asked and Porthos nodded furiously, that could be Aramis. “He's still in the trauma room. I'll get a nurse to show you.”

A couple of minutes later Porthos was being guided down the corridor into a large room where, when a nurse pulled back a curtain, he discovered Aramis lying on a bed with monitors beeping and wires coming out from everywhere.

“Thank god,” Porthos gasped and went quickly over.

The nurse stood behind Porthos and began to explain Aramis' condition. “He has a tube to help him breathe because his lungs collapsed. The stab wounds must have let air get into his chest. They're going to take him to the operating theatre in a minute. The doctors were concerned about his erratic and weak heart-beat but have decided that they can't wait any longer. Does he have any family that we can contact?”

“I _am_ his family,” Porthos informed her sternly. She looked a little suspicious but nodded and checked one of the monitor's before writing on Aramis' chart.

“They'll be here in a moment to get you,” she told Aramis then left the curtained area.

“Thank fuck you're here,” Aramis said frantically the second she was gone. “I need to get out of here.”

“Love,” Porthos reached out to touch Aramis' shoulder and examined the vampire's body. As well as the three large white dressings he couldn't help but stare at the tube sticking out of his chest. “I don't think you should go anywhere.”

“I have to, Porthos, they want to operate on me! They're putting goodness knows what into my arms!” He began to sit up, winching but managing to do so. Porthos felt lost, he knew that Aramis was clearly very injured but he also understood the panic about going under the knife.

“Help me find some clothes,” Aramis requested upon discovering they had stripped him down to his underwear. Porthos looked around but couldn't see Aramis' clothes anywhere.

“Hold on,” he said and poked his head out from the curtains. He looked around the trauma room but couldn't see anything Aramis could wear. Glancing back at the vampire he cringed when he saw Aramis pulling the blood-covered tube out of his chest.

“You meant to be doing that?” Porthos asked, hoping that Aramis knew what he was doing.

“I'm fine, I'm already healing,” Aramis explained but said no more than that and Porthos had to disappear to steal some scrubs so Aramis wouldn't have to sneak out half naked. Once they had successfully and, quite amazingly, managed to get out of the hospital without being noticed Aramis flung his arms around Porthos and held on tightly.

“Hey,” Porthos chuckled and cuddled him back. “Was wondering when you'd do that.” Then Aramis cried in Porthos' arms and Porthos didn't ask why, he just held him and didn't let go for what felt like an age until the sobbing finally subsided and the vampire pulled away sniffing.

“Take me home,” Aramis requested and Porthos did just that.

Back at the house, although Aramis was getting stronger by the minute, Porthos still took him straight upstairs and put him to bed. Aramis didn't complain, he let Porthos pull up the duvet and was just grateful that, so far, the chair hadn't been mentioned.

“Get some sleep and get better, love. I'm gonna go and check the others are okay then I'll come and lie with you.”

He bent forward and kissed Aramis on the forehead. Aramis' eyes closed and Porthos left him in the room to head back downstairs were Athos was sitting in the kitchen on his own.

“Where are the other two?” Porthos asked, immediately concerned.

“D'Artagnan called,” Athos explained. “They've let him go so Constance has gone to get him.”

Porthos was pleased. He had been worrying that they'd try and frame d'Artagnan for something that he hadn't done but obviously that wasn't their plan. He felt very relieved that the kid was okay. Porthos sat down at the kitchen table opposite Athos and let out a loud sigh.

“Aramis seems to be healing although I don't know how. Maybe all that blood he drank in your after-life is helping him somehow. He's upset as well which is understandable given what happened with Rochefort. What a day, huh?”

“What a week more like,” Athos corrected him which made Porthos snort.

“What a bloody year, you mean?”

There was silence for a moment until Athos spoke again.

“I am sorry for it all, Porthos.”

“Pfft,” Porthos said, waving his hand to dismiss the ghost and his guilt. “It weren't all your shit. I mean a lot of this has been between vampires and werewolves and you ain't even one of those.” And Athos, for once, listened as Porthos continued. “I want to thank you for coming to the court with me and helping. You never hesitate to get stuck in do you? Even though you can still be hurt. You're a good man, Athos.”

Athos felt a little bit embarrassed and it wasn't helped by the way the werewolf was staring at him in an odd way. Neither of them said anything for a while until Porthos sat up a little straighter and finally spoke.

“You wanna come upstairs with me?”

The question took Athos back a little. “I umm...why?” he asked, wanting to clarify what Porthos meant by 'coming upstairs' before he agreed to it or not.

“Well Aramis is sleeping and I said I'd go and be with him. I know he'd love it if he woke up and you were there as well.”

“Oh...” Athos still felt taken back and he found himself stumbling over his words. “I...do you think...well...I mean...if you don't mind?”

Porthos chuckled. “I wouldn't be suggesting it if I minded, would I? Come on.”

They both stood up and Athos followed Porthos out of the room and upstairs into Aramis' bedroom. Thankfully Aramis had the largest bed although Athos wasn't completely convinced it would comfortably hold three grown men.

“Hey, don't be nervous,” Porthos encouraged, noticing that Athos had rather frozen to the spot. Porthos moved closer to him and automatically reached out to stroke his cheek. Athos looked awkward but Porthos didn't pull away; in fact he just continued to look at Athos, wishing that he understood what was going on inside the ghost's head.

“You love him, I love him and he loves us both. Let's just go with that for the time-being,” Porthos suggested when he lowered his hand and Athos nodded.

Then Porthos stepped back to pull his jumper up over his head, kick off his boots and got into bed with Aramis. Athos, with a little bit of nervous hesitation, followed, although he kept most of his clothes on. Porthos clambered onto one side and Athos the other, both lying on top of the duvet. Aramis, still in hospital scrubs, mumbled something to himself, sighed and then rolled over, immediately wrapping an arm around Athos which made Porthos chuckle. Porthos then snuggled up behind Aramis' back and spooned against him as Athos just lay there.

“You okay?” Porthos whispered over the sleeping vampire at the ghost and Athos nodded, even though he wasn't sure if Porthos could see but then a big hand appeared from no-where and took his own and their locked fingers rested on top of Aramis' hip. Athos appreciated Porthos' reassuring hand and, despite the fact he didn't need sleep, he soon began to doze off himself.

He was woken at some point during the night by a strange whimpering noise. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side to discover Aramis sobbing quietly, his face all scrunched up and his fingers clinging onto Porthos' arm which was wrapped around his chest. Porthos, however, appeared to still be fast asleep judging by the snoring going on behind the vampire.

“Aramis?” Athos said quietly, not planning to actually speak but he accidentally did it without realising. Aramis opened his wet eyes and stared at the ghost. It just seemed to make him cry even harder which caused Athos to worry that sleeping in the same bed was upsetting Aramis in some way.

“Should I leave?” he asked tentatively.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Aramis whispered and then reached out for the ghost, grabbing Athos' jumper he tugged the ghost forward. Athos moved and soon found himself pressed up against the upset vampire. “Don't you ever leave. You hear me? None of you are allowed to get old and none of you are allowed to get sick.”

“I...I can't get old or get sick,” Athos pointed out, he could promise Aramis that one at least, even though he couldn't make the same promise on behalf of the others. Aramis seemed to nod then slowly calmed down. He got so quiet that Athos thought the vampire had fallen back to sleep until he spoke again.

“I need to go in the chair.”

“Aramis, you don't have to worry about that right at this very...” But, before Athos could finish his sentence, Aramis moved and slowly scrambled out from his position between the other two. He crawled off the bed and stood up.

The movement finally seemed to wake Porthos up. “Where you going, love?” he blearily asked. Aramis didn't answer him, just opened the door into the hallway and left. This made Porthos pushed himself up and, still half-asleep, he yawned before looking across at Athos.

“Where's he going?” he asked. Athos explained the mention of the chair and the werewolf, still somewhat befuddled in his tired state, began to get off the bed as well. Athos joined him and they quietly left the room to discover that Aramis was indeed walking up the steps into the attic still wearing the blue hospital scrubs.

Porthos and Athos were both more than a little surprised by his actions so followed him up and then stared as Aramis turned on the single light-bulb which hung from the ceiling then sat himself down onto the chair, even leaning forward to tie his own ankles into the leather straps. He appeared to be talking to himself.

“One last time,” he was muttering. “Then you won't have to do it anymore. One final time.”

Porthos went forward to help Aramis with his wrists and, once the vampire sitting up in the chair, he held onto the back of Aramis' neck and bent down to kiss the top of his head tenderly. “You're very brave,” he told Aramis and the vampire looked up and smiled.

“One last time,” he told Porthos and Porthos nodded.

“One last time, love. And it won't even be that long because you've probably already gone through the worst of it. Just another day or two, yeah?”

Aramis opened his mouth as if to say something but then didn't, he closed his mouth again and nodded.

\-----------------------------

“That's not the one I want! I don't want that one, you fucking imbecile! Put it back! Just put it back!”

“Aramis...”

“What's the point of even playing this when those two cheat anyway?!”

“D'Artagnan...”

“Can I go and get a book?”

“Athos...”

Constance sighed and placed her face in her hands to hide herself away from all of the stress. “I don't know why we play games,” she mumbled to herself. “It always ends in tears.”

“I'm not crying!” d'Artagnan insisted because he had over-heard the comment and he wasn't crying, he was mostly just pouting. “But what's the point when Aramis and Porthos just make up the rules as they go along?”

“We do not,” Aramis insisted. He was tied to the chair and sweating but his shivers had calmed down over the past couple of hours and he had eaten the whole plate of jam donuts which d'Artagnan had made for him. “Put that one back and changed it,” he attempted to whisper out of the corner of his mouth to Porthos who chuckled and did as Aramis asked.

“See! You're cheating now!” D'Artagnan yelled at them in horror.

“It's not cheating,” Aramis pointed out. “It's a valuable life lesson which I'm teaching you. You won't get anywhere in life if you constantly follow all of the rules.”

Athos, who was slightly more sympathetic towards the upset human, decided to finally intervene on his behalf. “Aramis, you cannot just let Porthos off from picking up four either. That doesn't make it a fair game.”

“Life, isn't fair, Athos, life isn't fair,” Aramis pointed out.

“Uno should be,” Athos responded.

Aramis nodded slowly. “Yes, I'm sorry. D'Artagnan, come and give me a cuddle. I'm sorry, come on, come here.”

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes but then he shuffled closer to the vampire on his knees and leaned forward to wrap his arms around Aramis' waist to give him a hug. Aramis lowered his cheek against the top of d'Artagnan's head.

“You smell tasty,” the vampire whispered which made d'Artagnan squeak and quickly let go.

“And I made you donuts and everything,” the human mumbled grumpily as he went back over to Constance.

Aramis laughed and felt a little bit bad. “Little D, I'm sorry. I loved your donuts.”

Constance smiled and held her arms open for her boyfriend who promptly crawled into them. She gave him a hug even though she was laughing a little herself.

“It's good to have things back to normal,” she noted and squeezed d'Artagnan even harder. The comment made the others go quiet for a moment and Uno was momentarily forgotten.

“Yes, things do feel like they're back to normal,” Porthos noted and moved to rest his head down on Aramis' lap. “Although a different kind of normal.”

“You don't think the werewolves are in danger anymore?” Constance asked when d'Artagnan slid out of her arms only to sit down beside her.

“Oh we are,” Porthos admitted. “As much as the vampires are in danger. The tension will never end and the possibility of humans finding out we all exist will always be there as well.”

“They will find out one day,” Aramis noted. “It's only a matter of time.”

Porthos nodded his head on Aramis' lap in agreement.

“If that happens, I vote we stay as far away from it as possible,” Athos mumbled.

“Famous last words,” Porthos pointed out with a chuckle, finally lifting his head even though that made Aramis whine. “We have Aramis, remember? The drama magnet that he is.”

“Hey!” Aramis protested with a frown. “I was just trying...”

“...to help,” the others all finished for him. “We know.”

“Fuck you all,” he mumbled but then began to tug at the straps around his wrists. “Fuck you all. Let me out of this chair.”

The others completely ignored him.

“Are you cooking dinner, d'Artagnan?” Porthos asked, his stomach was rumbling.

“I can if you like. But didn't you mention about cooking one night this week?”

“Let me out of this chair!” Aramis screamed and started twisting on the cushions, pulling hard at the restraints. “I can't do it. I can't do it anymore...let me out.”

“Oh yeah, I could do. I wanted to do those lamb steaks we haven't cooked yet. I can make Aramis something vegetarian.”

“I don't want vegetarian, you fucking shit-head!”

“Go on then, you should make it,” d'Artagnan suggested. “I don't want you all to think that I own the kitchen now just because I'm studying cooking.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Aramis snapped. “Fucking listen to me! Let me out right now!”

“We are listening to you, love,” Porthos said as he got up onto his feet and cupped the back of Aramis' head. He gave Aramis a kiss on the nose. “I'm gonna go cook dinner. I love you.”

Porthos left the room and Athos reached out to pick up the pack of cards. “Another game?”

“I don't want another fucking game!” Aramis screamed loudly. “Let me out! Untie me! Help, I'm being held prisoner in the attic! Someone help me!”

Athos began shuffling the cards and they all continued to ignore Aramis until the vampire had calmed down and was playing Uno with them.

\-------------------------------

It was a horribly grey day and the blustery wind only blew away one set of dark clouds to allow the next set of dark clouds to roll in. The air was stuffy as the threatening storm rumbled somewhere a few miles away but the ghost and the werewolf continued standing in the graveyard with Aramis in front of them holding a bouquet of white roses in his hands.

“Go and put them on the grave, love,” Porthos encouraged softly but didn't push him when the vampire didn't move.

“I just...” Aramis paused and then looked back over his shoulder at the ghost and the werewolf. “Do you mind if I just have a moment to myself?”

Porthos didn't want to leave him but respected his wishes and nodded. He turned to walk away and Athos followed. Then, as they stood beside a statue of an angel, Athos looked at Porthos out of the corner of his eye. The concern that Porthos had for the vampire was clear on his face and Athos, hoping that it would mean something, reached out and took hold of Porthos' hand. Porthos was shocked at first and looked down to stare at Athos' offered hand in surprise but then he smiled and squeezed it tightly.

Back at the grave Aramis finally managed to take a couple of steps closer towards it. The gravestone was new and the writing was beautifully done. He knew that she would have liked it. There were already some flowers resting up against the stone but Aramis crouched down to added his to the pile.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he stayed on his knee, staring at the name. “Again for everything you did. I...I wish you had taken me up on my offer all of those years ago so you'd still be with me today but I understand why you didn't. I know that living forever isn't as romantic as it sounds.

“You were such a beautiful woman, Adele, so very beautiful. No-one deserves to die but you going just seems so unfair somehow. But thank you again for what you did. Thank you again for saving me. I know if you were here you'd tell me off for constantly repeating myself but I can't help it. I want you to know how grateful I am and I'm going to come and see you whenever I can so we can still talk. I brought Porthos and Athos with me this time,” Aramis explained and briefly looked over his shoulder to see them both standing back, holding hands which made him smile before he returned his gaze to the gravestone.

“I told them about you. They were wondering why I kept on coming to the graveyard and I finally felt ready to tell them last night. You know, I think things are working out quite well at the moment. They clearly like each other they're just too shy to do anything about it. So I'm helping them out with that whilst taking things slow with Athos. He shares our bed sometimes and I get kisses and cuddles from him once in a while but nothing more than that yet which is okay because it has only been what...three months since we admitted our feelings for each other? I'm happy to take things at his speed. The poor guy has been through a lot, he's only just opening up to us and I think he's still a little unsure of how he fits into everything but he's finally starting to relax and just go with it. I even found him and Porthos cuddling in bed together asleep the other night which was the most amazing sight I think I've ever seen in my entire life. It made me so happy.

“Perhaps I can have nice things after all, Adele. Maybe I'm allowed a couple of nice things, at least for a while.” He found himself on the verge of tears so quickly kissed his thumb then pressed it against the cold stone just as the rumbling thunder grew louder. “I'll better go before it rains because, when Porthos gets wet, he smells like wet dog. I'll see you again soon.”

Aramis got up off the grass and slowly walked backwards, doing the sign of the cross against his chest he then turned and headed back to his boyfriend's.

“Thanks for coming,” he said once he had approached them.

“Thanks for asking us to,” Porthos said with a smile and wrapped his arm around Aramis and gave him a hug. “Let's head back before it begins to pelt it down.” The whole time he was holding Aramis he also never let go of Athos' hand.

“I like spring,” Porthos was saying as they all go back to the house and took off their coats. “Flowers start to grow, baby animals are born, everything smells all fresh and new. Like it's the start of a new beginning, you know?”

“It's bloody awful, it pisses it down all of the time and it gets lighter,” Aramis muttered to stop Porthos' poetic nonsense as he went into the living-room where Constance and d'Artagnan were standing hand-in-hand waiting for them which shocked Aramis a little. Even more so when he noticed that they were looking nervous.

“What have you done?” Aramis immediately asked.

“N...nothing,” d'Artagnan shuttered which made Aramis even more suspicious.

“Would you all mind sitting down for a minute?” Constance requested as both Athos and Porthos also came into the room wondering what was going on. But they did as they were told and the three men were soon sitting on the large sofa which still occupied their living-room. Constance and d'Artagnan remained standing facing them all.

“We have something to tell you,” d'Artagnan began which immediately made Aramis, who was sitting in the middle, elbow Porthos in the ribs.

“Told you d'Artagnan would ask quickly. Do I have to buy a hat?”

“A hat?” d'Artganan asked with a frown. “Why would you have to buy a...”

“No,” Constance interrupted. “That's not it. Gosh, okay, so...this wasn't exactly intended but we're both happy about it anyway. I wasn't even going to tell you for another few weeks because it's still such early days but you're family and d'Artagnan can't keep any secrets anyway so...”

“Oh dear god,” Athos muttered as he suddenly realised what was going on.

“...we're having a baby.”

“Who's having a baby?” Porthos immediately asked, confused.

“We are,” Constance explained. “Well I'll be the one giving birth but we're all one big family so...we're all having a baby.”

She grinned and d'Artagnan grinned and, once it had sunk in for Porthos, he joined in with the grinning. Aramis looked shocked at first but then he felt smug that his advice had obviously worked. Athos just looked horrified and continued to look horrified.

Constance didn't really know what to say so she let go of d'Artagnan's hand and went for her usual suggestion of....“I'll go and make us all some hot chocolate.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Comments are always welcome]


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